The Wheels on the Bus
by OddKitty
Summary: Why did it have to be today that he’d run into his childhood rival?  Why today, why this bus, why for heaven’s sake NOW?  And when the hell did Potter suddenly become hot?  When a chance meetings becomes a chance to redeem the past, what will Draco do?
1. The Art of Public Transport

**WARNING:** Course Language used rather frequently! YOSH!

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"Do you mind if I sit here?" A voice interrupted him as he perused the society section of the Sun Times. Without looking up, Draco Malfoy shifted slightly closer to the window, indicating that yes, _sure you can defile my personal space with your presence, you public transport pervert_. The other muttered a quiet thanks and lowered himself onto the seat next to him. Draco turned ever so slightly to face the window even further, effectively exposing his back to the individual beside him, but shielding himself from having to acknowledge the other's existence. 

Dimly he was aware of his seat mate's attention like a burning at the back of his neck but he resolutely ignored it, determined to finish his newspaper hopefully unmolested. The longer the stare continued, however, the more agitated Draco became. Daring a glance in the reflective surface of the bus window Draco was given the impression of a city zooming by before he focused on the reflection caught therein. He caught a hazy impression of black hair and a dark jacket from what he could make from the window and nearly jumped in surprise at the quick intake of breath from the man beside him.

In a rush of air the man exclaimed in an excited gasp, "I knew it!" Draco quickly turned to glare at the man and his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"Draco Malfoy! You're the last person I ever expected to meet on a muggle bus!" Harry Potter smiled brilliantly, looking like an eager puppy, almost bouncing in his chair. Draco stared in disbelief, his newspaper, slowly sliding page-by-page from his fingers. Harry Potter. Harry bloody Hero-of-the-World Potter! Harry the Boy-Who-Kicked-Voldemort's-Arse-Then-Disappeared-Entirely-From-The-Magical-World Potter. Holy Shit. Holy buggering hell. Of all the days that he'd been forced to take the goddamn bus, how come it was today that he'd run into his childhood rival? Why today, why this bus, why for heaven's sake _now_?

And when the hell did Potter suddenly become hot? Draco snapped backed to himself, shut his gaping mouth and continued to stare wide-eyed at the smiling man sitting beside him. Harry really didn't look all that much different than when Draco had last seen him at the age of 17. Now four years on, there shouldn't have been much of a difference, but it seemed those extra years had really defined the boy into a very stunning young man. His hair was as dishevelled as ever, looking as though he'd merely rolled out of bed, though his clothes were another matter.

When they were children, Draco had only ever seen Potter in either his school uniform or those horribly baggy and worn scraps that Potter laughingly claimed were garments! Now, he was wearing a dark emerald green T-shirt that lightly hugged his chest, covered by a worn, but very beautifully tailored leather jacket. On close inspection, it looked suspiciously like Dragon-hide. It must have cost a fortune. Harry's legs were covered by a pair of equally worn flared jeans that had rough holes bearing his pale knees, but rather than looking scruffy, they kind of made him look, well, deliciously dangerous. Draco couldn't see his feet from their position tucked underneath the chair, but he'd guess on black dragon-hide boots. He'd stake a considerable share of the remaining Malfoy riches on it. He returned his gaze to Harry's face, which was now set in an expression of slight nervousness, though his lopsided grin was still present.

Weakly, Malfoy muttered, "P-Potter?" and automatically placed his hand dazedly in the one that Harry was offering to him. The hand was warm and slightly calloused and the sensation sent a shooting spark at his arm. Draco dropped the hand as quickly as possible and let his fall to his knee where he resolutely rubbed it across his trousers in an attempt to remove the lingering sensation that still ghosted over his flesh.

"Wow, Draco, what are you doing here?"

"Er…going to work?"

"Yes, I see that, mister suit-and-tie. I meant, why are you here? In muggle London, on a bus?" Potter asked with a charming eye-roll. Potter shifted in his seat so that he was more turned towards Draco, giving him his undivided and eager attention.

"Well," Draco started hesitantly. "I work at a law firm which deals in a lot of cases that involve crimes between our worlds. The offices are here so liaisons are easier for the muggle parties' involved and they have anti-apparition wards set up. So I would _normally_ be driving to work, but my car decided to give out today of all days and I've got a huge meeting that I'm supposed to attend and if this bus goes any faster, I might actually only _barely_ miss the meeting!" Draco said, his temper flaring. Harry laughed throatily and the sound sent a delightful shiver down Draco's spine. Harry rested a placating hand on Draco's shoulder, who flinched under the unexpected touch. Harry ignored it but smiled at the blonde with amusement.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you won't miss your meeting. Actually, I can almost guarantee that you'll be exactly on time to meet with your client!" He claimed with another cheerful grin, his brightly animated eyes crinkling in the corners. Draco stared incredulously at Harry and arched a white-gold eyebrow at him.

"Oh? And how exactly can you guarantee that, Potter?" He asked with a smirk.

Potter leaned in closer with a conspiratorial glance around the bus. He motioned for Draco to draw closer and with a hand shielding his mouth from the view of others he whispered, "Didn't you know? I have magical powers!" He then snorted and broke down into a fit of uncontrolled giggles, looking more like a 2 year old, rather then a 21 year old.

Draco rolled his eyes and slipped back into his seat, turning his face to stare out the window, ignoring the silly ex-Gryffindor who appeared to be suffering from a bad case of childishness. To Draco, Harry had always seemed so painfully serious and grown-up in their youth, so he assumed that he was only now catching up on what he'd missed out on – at the expense of helpless strangers on the Bus system.

Every occasionally, Draco would shoot a scathing look at the man beside him, who was smiling absently as he stared around at the people on the bus, his arm draped casually along the back of their chair. They were about five minutes from his stop, and they spent the intervening time in relative silence except for a few returns of the giggles that Potter tried suppressing.

As his stop approached Draco leaned over and hit the buzzer and stood as the bus began to pull over and slow down. Potter also stood and moved into the aisle ahead of Draco, who slid out behind him and waited for the bus to come to a complete stop. It did so with an unexpected lurch and Draco stumbled unceremoniously into Potter, grabbing his shoulders to maintain his balance, His face buried in the soft leather of Harry's upper back.

"God, you smell good!" _Oh shit_. "I didn't say that out-loud did I?" Draco felt and heard the answering chuckle from Harry and he groaned in embarrassment, even as his cheeks flamed red.

"Yes, you did, and thanks," Harry responded and waited for Draco to steady himself before clambering off the bus and remaining patiently on the sidewalk for him. Draco absently thanked the bus driver and with a little more dignity left the bus and stood in the chilly air, his face still burning in embarrassment. He could feel the amusement radiate off the other and glared grumpily at him, crossing his arms against his chest.

"Are you following me?" He asked Harry suspiciously. Harry nodded and grinned in response and gestured for Draco to lead the way. After a pause Draco looked at his watch and swore. He then took off at a fast pace down the sidewalk, not quite running to get to his office and not caring if Harry was indeed following him.

He rushed into the lavish reception area of _Nott, Haversham & Associates_ and sprinted over to the elevator, aggressively and repeatedly pressing the up button and waiting with growing impatience for it to click down each floor. He was so sorely tempted to just wave his wand to get the elevator to this level, but it was against company policy because of the many muggles that frequented the building. He sensed someone move up behind him and from the presence alone knew who it was without turning around.

"WHY are you following me, exactly?" he fumed, speaking to the elevator. He heard leather creak in what he assumed was a shrug.

"I don't know, I just haven't met anyone in the wizarding world in so long and I guess…I'm just curious. Plus, I'm going to prove you right with my prediction, no matter what."

Draco sniffed at that and nearly launched himself inside the elevator as the doors began opening. He quickly pressed his floor and fidgeted as Harry idly strolled in behind him and the doors, so excruciatingly slow, finally shut behind him.

The muzac being fuzzed through the speakers did nothing to calm his nerves and Harry's humming along to the tune was doing absolutely nothing to improve his mood.

"So, who're you going to meet?" Harry asked, curiosity ringing in his voice.

"Oh, just some rich prat who needs some intermediary's to negotiate with the muggle city council in order to use a building for god only knows what sordid magical purpose. Probably some perverted Beast freak-show, or something," Draco responded blithely. Harry gave another of those throaty spine tingling laughs and gazed in amusement at the shorter blonde.

"Is that so?" He asked before lapsing into a contented silence as the floors ticked over. Finally, they'd reached the top floor and Draco sped down the hall to the meeting room. He stopped just outside the doors, composing himself and running a steadying hand over his neatly groomed hair and calmly pushing the door open. As he did so he wrapped a cloak of arrogant confidence around him and stared down at the impatient looking men who already occupied the table.

"Mr Malfoy," Nott Senior's voice boomed from the head of the table. Draco had to try bury the urge to flinch at that commanding voice and turned to regard the greying man with a mixture of respect and loathing. "You are a half hour late! You are extremely fortunate that the client has yet to arrive!"

"Ahem," a cough at the door brought the attention of the whole room. "Actually, the client _is_ here."

_Oh shit. Oh holy buggering shit, hell and damn!_

"Ah, Mister Evans, I do apologise! Please, take a seat," Nott exclaimed with a grand gesture. "Malfoy! Kindly take your seat!"

"Yes, sir." As Draco sank into his chair, his stomach sank with him. He just wanted to go back to his office, hide under his desk and curl up and die of shame.

"Now, Mister Evans –"

"Please, call me James," Harry Potter offered as he took his seat. He looked directly across the table at Draco and winked. The utter bastard.

_TBC _

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**A/N:** Ok, guys this is my first mini-fic. Ok, that's a lie :P but it's my first fic posted HERE. I know it's only short, but I hope you guys like it so far. Please, Read & Review, and I'll love you long time! 


	2. 9 to 5

Harry watched with growing amusement at the expressions that kept flitting, unmasked across Draco's face. They were subtle and fleeting, probably unnoticeable to anyone at the table, but he watched, rapt, at the little quirks of the lips, the raising of the eyebrows, the shifty sidelong glances and the nose twitches.

Otherwise, Draco Malfoy was the picture of cool calm and collectedness. Harry tried hard not to let his fascination show too much. As it was, he only heard half of what the senior partner was talking about. Not that he could have understood a quarter of what the insufferable man was saying, with most of it being composed solely of convoluted legal jargon. Not like he actually cared at that moment, either. He couldn't help it. He stared avidly at the blonde, who was listening with more care and attention now that he'd recovered from his earlier embarrassment. His brow creased in concentration, making a little furrow appear between his brow and his lips pouted ever so slightly.

Whatever was being said, Malfoy was worried about it and that more than anything made Harry sit up and want to listen to what was being said.

It was no use. "Excuse me, sorry to interrupt," Harry said, adjusting his glasses over his nose, waiting for the full attention of the board. "I have to apologise. I'm really not that good with all this legal terminology, which is of course why I hired you to handle my affairs, but I'm going to have to ask that you could explain it to me in simpler terms."

The board looked affronted and Harry leant back with an embarrassed grin, scratching at the back of his head, mussing his already untidy hair.

"Mister Evans, with all due respect, we are being as plain as we can," Nott senior explained, still wearing a slightly insulted expression that was bordering on contempt. The easy smile fell from Harry's face and he leaned toward the older man, menace exuding from his pores. The others at the table reared away from the dark haired youth and the room fell deathly silent. In a low and dangerous voice, Harry addressed Nott, his eyes sparking in anger.

"Mister Nott, with all _due respect_, I am paying you all a considerable amount of money to handle this for me, but I am not going to do it blind! I will know what the hell you're saying and I will have it said in a manner that I am capable of following! Now if that is too difficult for you I will be forced to take that considerable amount of money _elsewhere! Is THAT clear?_"

Nott was sitting as far back in his chair as could be allowed, his skin had gone an ashen colour and he sat with his jaw hanging wide open, shocked and terrified that such a pleasant seeming young man could be so volatile. If this hadn't been a question of money, he would have had the blackguard tossed from the office, but as Mister Evans had put it, it was a very considerable amount indeed. Taking a deep breath, Harry slowly resumed his seat and looked about the table at the shocked faces.

His stare came to rest on Draco who looked breathless and wind struck, but otherwise not in abject fear of him, as the others did. Harry then smiled pleasantly, all mirth and good intentions yet again and addressed the board at large.

"Now I'm sure you men are very busy and important, and I'm sure you have other clients that need attending to. However, if one of you would care to go through with me the particulars of my situation, I would be much obliged."

Surprise, surprise; no volunteers. Harry smirked and flicked another glance at Malfoy before turning his attention to Nott.

"It seems I've scared all your men," he observed with amusement. Draco ruffled at this and sat up straighter in his chair as though challenged by Harry's words.

Nott surveyed the table and predictably an evil glimmer appeared in his eye. "Malfoy, you will help Mister Evans out with case, it's the least you can do after being late to the meeting."

Malfoy had to restrain himself from crying out in outrage, Harry could see it and his smile grew that little bit wider. Oh, this was going to be so much fun! Abruptly, he climbed to his feet and the others at the table hastened to follow suit.

"I've already taken up enough of your time, gentlemen," Harry said with a slight bow. "Mister Malfoy, would you care to go over the particulars over a business lunch?" C_ome on, come on, take it. Take the bait, you know you want to!_

After a pointed look from Mister Nott, Malfoy nodded and trailed after Harry as he waltzed from the room and joined him in the lift.

"So, know any good restaurants?" Harry asked with that annoying carefree grin. Draco glowered at him from the back of the lift silently and they continued the short trip to the lobby in such a manner. Draco motioned with a tilt of his head for Harry to follow and they both returned to the blistering cold of the streets for a short walk. They went a block and a half before they came to a small restaurant that was tucked in between two large menacingly modern buildings that cast their oppressive shadows across the street. A bar of light managed to slip between the two and fall playfully over the more traditional architecture of the inn and it looked warm and inviting.

The two entered the reasonably empty restaurant and Draco immediately walked to a corner booth that was backed by expansive windows, giving view to a wonderfully quaint English herb and rose garden out the back. The restaurant itself was light and cheerful, almost kitsch, its décor eccentric but still with a modicum of taste. The carpets were a plush burgundy red and the walls were a pale cream colour with a dark-wooded dado rail splitting the walls. Everywhere there was space hung a framed photo. There were many family photos and scenic pictures also. It made the restaurant feel like a really large sitting room of somebody's grandmother and it was definitely not where Harry would imagine Draco eating his lunch.

A pleasant looking older woman came over to the table and greeted Draco with a familiarity and fondness that startled Harry and made him re-examine the blonde as he chatted happily with the woman. She smiled warmly at Harry in a manner that reminded him of Molly Weasley and dropped a set of menus on the table before bustling away to attend other customers that had strolled in.

"So, you come here often?" Harry tried again. Draco's head flew up from his examination of the menu and he glared at Harry with suspicion.

"Did you just try and crack on to me?" he asked, his eyes narrowing to pinpricks.

"What? No! I was trying to make pleasant conversation!" Harry responded in a voice higher than he'd intended.

"Only, I was watching this muggle film the other night and some sleazy guy tried to use it on this girl."

"You watch TV?"

"Is that so shocking?"

"Well, yes…So, do you frequent this place often?"

"Changing the words doesn't make that question any less sleazy," Draco responded with a smirk. "Your precious muggle TV has warped what little good feeling I've had towards that particular turn of phrase. And yes, I come here often, if you couldn't tell."

"You're angry at me?" Harry asked, sounding a little hurt. He was putting it on a tad thick, he'd admit, but it was working.

"Of course," Draco responded absently.

"Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with the abject humiliation I seem to experience whenever you're around me. Anyway, why would you care? It's not like we've ever been friends."

"Oh come on, Draco, you're the first face I've recognised in so long and you're the first person who's recognised me, and that's something pretty special," Harry said, stretching languorously in his chair. Draco watched the action studiously as Harry carefully watched his reactions. Draco's eyes drifted from Harry's chest to his face and he frowned as a sudden thought struck him.

"Why'd you call yourself James Evans? And how come the others didn't know who you were?"

"Uh, so what's good here? What would you recommend?"

"Potter."

"Ooh, they have chicken Kiev and mashed potato side…mmm…"

"Potter!"

"What?"

"Stop evading my question!" Draco ordered, jabbing the table for emphasis.

"It's just a bastardisation of the disillusionment charm. So I still sort of look like me, but in a rather plain un-hero-like way. People still see the Black hair and the glasses and the green eyes, but it just doesn't click for them. Now most people, if I'd gone up to them and said, 'hey Lavender Brown, haven't seen you in a long time', well, she'd just probably turn around and say 'who?'. But you actually saw through it. That hasn't happened since…well, Hermione. I'd count that as pretty special."

"Indeed. But that doesn't really answer the question. Why the pseudonym? Why the charm?" Draco asked. Harry could feel his cheeks turn slightly red and he scratched the back of his neck in embarrassment.

"Oh you know, every hero has to have his secret identity," he replied with a forced laugh. Draco stared at him silently and uncompromisingly until he caved. "Fine, if you really want to know…I got just so sick and tired of everyone calling me the Chosen One or the Boy Who effing Lived. I just wanted to not have to deal with that place anymore. I did what they want me to, but the still wouldn't leave me alone, so I just, you know, disappeared."

"Was it worth it?"

"Was what worth it?"

"Leaving behind all your friends and the world you know, just for peace and quiet?" Draco asked, menu lying forgotten in his hand. Harry took in a sharp intake of breath as a quick stab of pain lanced through his chest. He could feel his eyes widen and start to swim and he looked out the window, hoping that Draco hadn't noticed.

"Yeah, the Kiev sounds really good. I'm going to have that. What about you?"

Draco remained silent and Harry resolutely continued his observation of the sunny garden outside the window, missing the play of emotions that occupied Draco's features. "Hm…I'll be going for the light chicken salad, I think." Harry let go of a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and gratefully turned round to face Draco again. He smiled genuinely and straightened his glasses. Draco returned the smile with a lopsided one of his own and signalled for the waitress to take their orders.

Draco ordered wine with lunch that he insisted Harry try. Seeing as they were both taking public transport it didn't really matter and Draco had no intention of returning to the office and he said as much with a glare shot at Harry who refused to apologise for his earlier deception.

While they waited for their meal, Harry tempted Draco into conversation about Quidditch and the Ministry of Magic, going on to ask about his current life and activities. With more tact than Harry was used to, Draco avoided that subject and neatly evaded Harry's attempts to broach the Hogwarts issue. He seemed extremely reluctant to talk about their school history and Harry had grown up enough to realise not to push the issue.

Their meals arrived and Harry couldn't help but practically bounce in his seat as the dish was laid in front of him, his mouth salivating from the smell alone. He caught Draco rolling his eyes at him as the blonde gracefully accepted his own meal with a murmured thanks to the waitress.

Harry leant in to breath in the warm scents of the dish before proceeding to cut open the chicken and watch with growing anticipation as the garlic butter oozed onto the plate. He nearly melted with it and felt such pleasure as he took his first bite that he moaned delightedly as the flavours spread along his tongue.

"Oh god, this is…I have to come back here. Everyday…Mm, Draco, you should really try this!" Harry looked at Malfoy who was sitting watching him with his mouth gaping slightly and a pink tinge to his cheeks.

"Draco, Draco are you ok?"

"Huh?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yeah, what? Yeah, I'm fine." Draco cleared his throat, took a gulp of wine staring anywhere but at Harry, and focusing on his dish.

Harry resumed his own meal, choosing to eat in silence and enjoy each and every morsel. When the lady returned to collect their dishes Harry showered praise on the food and begged the lady to thank the chef and tell him how satisfied he was with the meal. Unable to resist, he also asked for the dessert menu, clearly setting in for the long haul, determined to try at least several more dishes while he was here.


	3. Mmm  Chocolate

_Not the chocolate gateau, please, anything but the chocolate gateau. _

"I'll get…the chocolate gateau. Draco, did you want anything?"

Draco shook his head mutely in response, his spirits sinking. He took another swig of wine. Watching Harry eat had been almost like watching someone get off. He'd looked as though he'd practically orgasmed on his first bite and he'd taken his time relishing the meal. It had been the most distracting – and disturbing – thing that Draco had ever had to witness. Not because it had grossed him out, not even because it was a weird fetish to his mind, but because he'd found it extremely erotic.

Now all he could picture was the chocolate gateau with its cherry cordial liqueur syrup being smeared over Harry's naked chest as he moaned and called out his name, sucking exquisitely on the maraschino cherry, lust making his eyes heavy lidded. Draco was extremely appreciative for the long table cloth that disguised his lap from view. He had to shake him self to get rid of the image and focus on the business, which Harry didn't seem all that keen to talk about at any rate.

"Let's wait until after dessert and coffee," Harry had said. The raven-haired man was gazing dreamily around the restaurant looking positively post-coital as he waited for his cake.

"I feel like I should offer you a cigarette," Draco complained in a petulant tone.

"What? Oh, um…" Harry blushed and shrugged, then propped an elbow on the table and rested his head in his hand as he returned Draco's gaze.

"I don't think I've seen anyone enjoy food quite that much before," Draco persisted. Getting any admission out of Harry was like pulling teeth, and it seemed that he only responded to particular phrasing. He couldn't remember Harry being this evasive in school. Not that he'd paid that much attention to him. No, none at all.

Harry shrugged again. "I can't help it. It's just one of those things in life that I've never been able to take for granted, so good food always makes me happy."

"Potter, about this business venture of yours…"

"Oh, you mean the Beast freak-show with god only knows what sordid purpose?"

"Er, yeah, sorry about that."

"No, no, no, don't worry about me, I'm just some rich prat, remember!"

"You- You're laughing at me!"

Harry broke down in a fit of hysterics that drew the attention of everyone in the room and he had to wipe tears of mirth from the corners of his eyes on his sleeve.

"I'm sorry, Draco, it's just…so unbelievably funny!"

"You are a prat, you know that right?"

"Yeah, yeah, and you're little miss sunshine," Harry said with an idle wave of his hand. "Actually, I'm going to set up a school for advanced magical learning and development."

"In the middle of muggle London?"

"Yep!"

"…Why?"

"Because I think there's a call for it. Plus, I was also thinking of extending the scope of the project to include elementary magic training as well, but I'm not so sure about the logistics," Harry admitted.

"In the middle of muggle London…"

"Yes, you already said that."

"That's because I can't believe it," Draco responded with an exasperated sigh.

"The voices in my head tell me I should," Harry shot back. Draco looked at him askance, but could see the merriment twinkle in Harry's eyes.

Draco groaned. "I don't get paid enough for this shit!"

"Then quit," Harry said with a shrug.

"No one else will willingly work with you, Potter."

"No, I mean quit the firm. Come work for me. I'll pay you double what they're paying."

"WHAT?!"

"Geez, no need to shout, you don't have to take the offer or anything if you don't want to."

"Double?"

"What? Yes, so…?"

"Double."

"Yes."

"DOUBLE?!"

"Yes! What's wrong with that?"

Draco spluttered for a moment lost for words as he stared open-mouthed at the Saviour of the wizarding world. "Do you even know how _much_ they pay me?" Draco practically squealed. Their table seemed to be drawing an inordinate amount of looks from the other patrons of the restaurant. Draco shuffled his chair closer to Harry's so he could whisper rather urgently to the man. "_Are you insane?"_

"Mm…maybe…it doesn't really matter, honestly. I can probably afford you," Harry said, scrunching up his face in calculation. "In fact, if I pull my all my funds from the firm entirely then I could probably pay you triple what you earn now and actually save money. Unless of course you have some particular attachment to your job?"

"No! No, hell no! Wait…did you just say triple?" Draco nearly swooned as he calculated how much that exactly was. He gripped the edge of the table until his hands were white knuckled and he stared intensely into Harry's wide emerald green eyes.

"I am so quitting."

"Good! That Nott fellow was a right twat."

"Indeed."

Harry reached the short distance across the table and gripped Draco's firmly in his own, shaking it happily in congratulations and smiling like Christmas had come. Draco beamed back at him, dazedly wondering what the hell had happened to his life. Triple his salary. Holy buggering hell, life was looking…well, strange to say the least. But it was also looking good.

"Ooh, cake! Mm…Oh god, Draco! You have to try this cake! Draco…Draco? Are you alright?"

"Wha?"

* * *

In a daze Draco followed Harry out of the restaurant once the other had paid (and left a substantial tip) and let Harry lead the way back to his office and help him pack up his things.

His boss had walked in and asked what he was doing and he'd dreamily responded with a stiff middle finger and a goofy grin. "I quit!" He'd said, just like that, then he'd marched passed his boss and slapped him on the ass-cheek as he'd floated by, Harry tailing him with his box of belongings and whistling that dumb tune from the elevator.

Once they'd reached the lobby, Harry had gone to the receptionist and charmed his way in to getting her to call a company car around and he pushed the still clap-happy Malfoy into the backseat with his box and slid in next to him.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"Erm…Draco, where do you live?"

"Right now? In a happy magical dream world where I can sleep in til ten in the morning!"

"I meant where's your home," Harry responded calmly, placing an arm on Draco's shoulder to get him to look at him.

"Oh, that, yeah, Jean-Claude, you know where I live. To the townhouse!" Draco yelled with a giddy laugh, he felt drunk, even though he'd only had two glasses at the restaurant. This day was just too weird. The driver sighed and put the car into gear, carefully navigating the streets til they reached his home. It was amongst a row of similar house all sandwiched together, the front door a short two steps from the sidewalk. The building was two stories tall, had an attic and a cellar and was rather narrow, but well kept. The outside was painted a light yellow cream colour with white French windows and contrasting black iron grills. It was every bit that rich arrogant English aristocrat townhouse and it suited Draco to a tee.

Draco drunkenly weaved up the stairs and rested his back at the entrance and just stared out at the rain clouds that had rolled in with the afternoon. "What a beautiful day," he practically sang. TRIPLE his current wage!

Harry was leaning in the driver's window of the town car and appeared to slip the driver a few bills before following Draco up to his front door with his box in arms.

"Er, I don't mean to interrupt your dreaming there, Draco, but this box is starting to get a tad heavy," Harry said in a strained voice.

"Oh? Oh! Sorry, let me just open the door," Draco responded, shaken from his dream world of expensive wine and suits. Oh the suits! And a plasma TV screen and – he could see it now – the full DVD collection, including special features and outtakes, of Saved by the Bell. He'd also have to get every single Marilyn Monroe and Audrey Hepburn film in existence and absolutely any movie with Humphrey Bogart in it. Draco fumbled with his keys and eventually managed to get unlock the door. Harry gently brushed passed him, walking into his living room and dumping the box on his coffee table. He stood and gazed around the room, whistling in awe.

The room was tastefully decorated with clean, unfussed lines; the furniture was surprisingly modern and neutral in colour. It was stylistically minimal but not sterile as it should have been. There was just enough warmth thrown in with a few scattered pillows and the Persian rug that graced the floor to make it comfortable.

"Wow, Draco, this is really nice," Harry muttered as he went over and examined a few objects that decorated the fireplace mantle. Draco scoffed at these words.

"Yeah, right, Potter, I can just imagine your place looking _exactly _like this," Draco shot back. Harry turned to face him and he bit his lip gently, his mouth tugging into a smile. What was with all the smiles?

"Maybe not, but it suits you, and it does look really good," Harry replied before wandering off into the hall. Draco trailed after him, removing his coat and hanging it on its hook on the closet door as he passed. He found Harry making a circuit of the dining room.

Draco didn't really know how to react to Harry being in his house, wandering through each room like a tourist in a museum. He supposed that he should feel violated and annoyed and should probably make a show of hexing him, but he was still feeling way too high for it to bother him greatly.

Harry paused when he stepped through the doorway to the kitchen and stared open-mouthed at the room. Draco slid through behind him and studied Harry's dumbfounded expression. Curiously his hands rose trembling in front of him and he took a hesitant step towards the appliances.

"Th-this, this is the oven! This oven was awarded top place in the ten best designs of 2006! It-it's more beautiful than I ever imagined! C-can I touch it?"

_Alright…he's an appliance nut, too. _"Um, sure," Draco said, watching in amusement as Harry's hands ghosted over the surfaces of the oven and its range top. Tentatively he moved on to the next appliance, his dishwasher, his refrigerator, microwave and toaster. All with that trembling reverence that he'd applied to his oven. Draco had gotten a designer in to redo his kitchen six months ago and he'd asked for the entire series of top of the line appliances. They were all decked out in brushed stainless steel and were the height sophistication and style. It was kind of a shame that he couldn't cook and spent most his evenings either out or ordering Thai.

Harry was practically hugging the fridge when he turned to Draco with a serious and wide-eyed expression. "You have to let me cook for you. You have to let me use your kitchen!"

"You can cook?" He asked incredulously. Harry nodded emphatically. He opened the fridge door and looked in at the mostly empty shelves and the bottles of wine stacked up in the door and on the bottom shelf and gave Draco a _look. _His parents had used to give him the same look when he'd been doing something overly indulgent. It was a look that said, "Draco, you know better than this. Don't make me call you an idiot outright." Malfoy hated the look with a passion. Draco made shooing motions at Harry with his arms and eventually, with a very reluctant final glance at the oven, Harry left the room to move on to the study which stood opposite the kitchen across the hall. He did a circuit of the room, absently reading the spines of the books that lined the shelves from floor-to-ceiling. He merely glanced at the computer on the desk, which happened to be Malfoy's pride and joy.

Once finished with the study and all other rooms on the ground floor Harry turned to Draco with a cheeky smirk.

"So, wanna show me the master bedroom?"

"Erm…"


	4. Quitting

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Quitting

After insisting on seeing every room in the house including the attic and the wine cellar, Harry had finally left with one last mournful look at the kitchen and a cheerful wave to Draco. Draco shut the door behind him gently and made his way into the lounge room. He threw himself exhaustedly on the couch then lay prone for a few moments, staring at the ceiling.

What a freaking weird day. Of course, being a wizard - and a Malfoy, for that matter - generally meant that he'd had many weird and wonderful days before, but this one really took the cake. After four years of grateful absence in his life, Harry had just as unexpectedly sprung up into his life as he'd disappeared from his own. And now…It was unthinkable. He was his _boss!_

Draco groaned and slapped a hand to his face. Sure, it was a lot of money on offer, but this…this was POTTER for god's sake! They couldn't spend five minutes within the same room without arguing. Although now he thought about it…they'd spent practically the entire day together and had managed without any serious argument. And Harry had been, well, _odd_ but pleasant and god, those abs. When he'd stretched back at the restaurant, Draco had nearly dropped his glass. Harry's shirt had ridden up that little bit, exposing his navel in all it's creamy glory. Thinking about it now reminded him of the whole _cake_ incident and he caught himself suddenly imagining not only the cake smeared across his chest, but also him licking whipped cream from Harry's stomach and - _no, no, no! This is Harry Bloody Potter we're talking about._ But he'd smelled so sinfully good; a mixture of leather, aftershave and ever so subtly of something else so indefinably appealing. _NO! Mustn't start fantasising about Potter! He's your new boss! _

_Oh God. He's my new boss. _"Gah, I need a drink!" Draco launched himself from the couch, hurried urgently to the kitchen and yanked the fridge door open violently. He reached in for the half-drunk bottle he'd left last night, put it straight to his lips and scrunched up his eyes as he let the Riesling burn down his throat in a steady stream. He broke away for a deep breath before polishing off that bottle and moving on to the next one. He cradled the bottle to his chest and slumped onto his couch, cracking the seal with an angry twist. Like the first, he tossed his head back and drank as though it was nothing.

_Oh holy buggering hell! What the hell is wrong with me? _"Wine's not gonna cut it," Draco murmured hazily to himself. He dropped the second bottle on the carpet before he stood and weaved through the arch into the kitchen. Of course, there was a certain prestige to it all. After all he was working for _Harry Potter!_ The Boy Everyone Thought Was Still Missing. A sneer curled his lips and he grabbed onto the wall as the room momentarily spun around him. God! It was going to be so amusing the day Harry came out…or no, not came out, best not to think about that. _But the day Harry chooses to return to the wizarding world_…_And I'll be there, watching everyone's expressions! _Classic! Draco managed to shuffle to the pantry and opened the door wide.

"God, if Harry saw whassin m' pantry 'e'd fliiiip!" He reached in and after several attempts at grabbing it, managed to withdraw a bottle of port that was sitting there among the countless other bottles of alcohol. He supposed that to some it might look like the home of an alcoholic, but Draco saw no problem with having emergency booze stocked up.

If the world was bloody going to come to an end, there was no way that Draco was going sober, so he'd been slowly collecting and replenishing his stocks every year since his sixteenth birthday when he'd received his first ever bottle of fire whiskey and he wasn't about to break the habit. Hugging the bottle to his chest, he grabbed another – just in case – and made his way very carefully up the stairs and into the bathroom.

After enjoying a nice long steamy soak, he retired to his bedroom where he flopped on his stomach on the bed and stared unseeing out the window. "I guess there're worssse elmpl- emelploy- bossesses to have," Draco raised the bottle to his lips and gave a disappointed whine when only a dribble hit his tongue. The bottle slipped from his fingers and rolled across the carpet. He watched it go with mournful eyes before pulling himself to lie on his back staring at the ceiling. A yawn escaped him and the alcohol that had seemed like such a good idea at the time made his eyelids droop shut. Within moments he was fast asleep and snoring lightly with all lights still blazing in the house. 

* * *

"_Oh yeah, the chocolate gateau, mm, you want me to try it, don't you Harry?" Draco asked. He stood from his seat across from Harry and made his way over to the raven-haired youth, his hips swaying. Harry nodded mutely, watching with wide eyes as Draco approached. Draco perched on the empty expanse of table before Harry, his legs spread wider than appropriate, his hands resting on the table between his thighs._

"_Well I couldn't possibly eat it if you've still got your shirt on," Draco continued with a sensual little pout. Harry spluttered and shook his head in disbelief and maybe even a little bit of horror. Draco reached out capturing Harry's face between his hands, he slid gently from the table and onto Harry's lap. Gently he nuzzled at Harry's neck and blew sweet cool breaths across his skin and felt him shiver beneath him, watching in growing anticipation as goose bumps rose across his arms._

"_Please, Harry, I just want a taste, won't you let me have a taste?" _

_Harry remained silent, eyes shut and his breathing shallow as Draco moved further into his lap. He moaned in surprise as their groins came into contact, starting another shiver up his spine. Draco bent lower, capturing Harry's lower lip between his own and biting gently. He ran a hand through that impossibly thick and messy head of hair, dragged his nails sharply against the scalp eliciting another moan from the man beneath him._

"_Please, Harry, I _need_ it!" Draco whined into Harry's neck, rocking backward and forward against his lap._

"_Anything, Oh god, anything you want, honey!"_

_Suddenly they were in Draco's bedroom, the French windows thrown wide and the lace curtains fluttering gently in the summer breeze. Harry was lying bare-chested on the bed, pinned by the Blonde who'd wrapped his leg between his own. He was propped up against a mound of pillows and he looked utterly shaggable, eyes slitted in desire. Draco poured cherry syrup in a steady stream onto Harry's chest as he watched only Harry's face, his eyes and reactions. Never letting his eyes leave Harry's face, Draco climbed down level with Harry's stomach. He went down and let his tongue slowly trail a path through the syrup, circling then dipping into his navel aware of every hitched breath and flinch in the body beneath his. Every reaction only serving to wind up his desire. _

_He kept Harry pinned with two strong hands pressed against his hips. With one quick movement, he licked a path from his stomach to his collarbone before rearing back and gazing at Harry's flushed face. He was moaning desperately with each breath. Without warning, Harry reached out and captured Draco's lips with his own, reversing their positions, throwing Draco into the mattress and kissing with such fire and passion and _desire_ that it left the Blonde breathless._

"_Mm, you're right Harry, that's some cake," Draco murmured gently as Harry pulled back to take a steadying breath. Hesitantly Harry raised a hand to lightly caress Draco's face, before lowing himself against Draco again, capturing him in a gentle kiss._

"_You're late, Malfoy! You're lucky the client isn't here yet or-" _

"_Erm…actually, the client _is_ here," James Evans said with a cough. "I've been waiting for four years, didn't you know?"_

"_That's it Malfoy, that's one too many times! You're fired!"_

"_But Harry!"_

"_How _DARE _you call me by my first name, you scum! You filthy horrible little _SNAKE!_ Get out! Get out!"_

"_Geez, Harry, no need to yell at Draco like that, really. I'm not mad!" _

"_You stay out of this, Evans!"_

"_Fine, fine. Hey Draco, since Harry doesn't want you anymore, can I have you? I'll pay you in all the chocolate cake you want!"_

* * *

"WHAT THE EFFING HELL WAS THAT?!" Draco yelped, shooting upright in bed, a cold sweat clinging to his skin. He launched from his bed, tumbling to the floor in an unbalanced heap. "…Ow…Stupid dreams, stupid Harry; stupid fucking me. Ugh! My mouth tastes like ass." Draco reached up a hand to his bedside table and pulled down his watch.

"Oh...I'm late for work… Shit! I'm late for work!" _Wait. Stop…you quit._ "OH SHIT!

"Oh fuck no! I quit my job! Why'd I quit my job? What was I thinking?" Draco cradled his head in his hands, still lying awkwardly on the carpet by his bed as yesterday started repeating itself in his mind's eye with stark and painful, clarity. His head was throbbing dully, insistently from the several bottles of alcohol he'd consumed last night. Combined with a general distaste for mornings, the oppressive feeling that he'd inexplicably and utterly messed up his life and an overall feeling of dread, Draco was definitely not a happy camper.

Of course, when things are pretty bad, it's almost always guaranteed that they will, if at all possible only get worse. This was one of those times. Through his panic, groans of pain and moments of self pity, Draco heard noises coming from downstairs. There shouldn't be any noises coming from downstairs, he being the only resident. He was not happy. Draco angrily fumbled on his nightstand until his hands came to clumsily grasp at his wand. His eyes the colour of thunderheads, his feet dressed in house slippers – armed as he was with a glare that could kill at twelve paces – Draco marched out of his room, down the stairs and followed the sounds to their source.

What struck him first was the smells, bringing on a bout of queasiness in his delicate state that stopped Draco momentarily in his tracks. He paused in the hall for a brief spell as he steadied his nerves and his stomach. Holding his wand aloft, trying to ignore the slight quiver that made the tip weave gently to and fro, he quietly pressed his back against the wall outside the archway into the kitchen and peered warily around the corner.

"POTTER?! Ow, my head!" Draco winced at the pitch and volume of his voice as it pierced his skull. He carelessly dropped his wand to clatter across the tiles as he gripped his head as it pulsed in an aggravated manner. "Never again," he muttered under his breath. It's what he said every time he'd drunk too much, but this time he meant…well, he'd meant it every other time too, but holy hell.

When Draco had peeked into the kitchen it had been to see a messy black haired man with his back to him, frying eggs. Harry turned around with a slight jump at Draco's words and blushed in a manner that, if Draco hadn't been in such a pissy mood, he might have found endearing. Draco glowered at him silently, one hand still clutched to his head.

Quietly, almost shyly, Harry muttered a careful greeting. "I made breakfast," he added. Draco stared at him for a moment with his patented 'are you stupid?' glare. The blush tinging Harry's cheeks deepened and He averted his gaze back to the stove-top, stirring what was now revealed to be a pan full with scrambled eggs.

"I can see that…why are you cooking breakfast in my house and where on earth did you get the eggs? And how in bloody hell did you get in?!" Draco demanded, his voice husky from sleep.

"Well, I'm cooking breakfast because I wanted to kind of apologise for being a bit of a prat yesterday and I looked into your pantry to find eggs, and I was very astonished at what I found, Draco. Ended up going down to the local. And…what was the other question?"

"How did you get in, Potter!" Draco managed through clenched teeth. Harry chuckled gently, turned his back to Draco and began piling the scrambled eggs onto a plate before he draped a tea towel over the top. He moved to the next work bench which had several varied ingredients that Draco knew didn't come from his pantry; there was also a few mixing bowls and assorted implements. From there he picked up one of the bowls a loaf of bread and brought it over to the stove-top.

"Do you like French toast? You look like a French toast person to me. I make the best French toast even if I say so myself. There's some coffee brewed if you want a cup and I've also set out some fruit and cereal on the table in the dining room. I bought some orange juice, too. I would have made some fresh, but I didn't know when you'd wake up and I've never really been that bothered with freshly squeezed juice. Actually, I quite like the cheap stuff," Harry babbled with a cheerful air, his back still to the irate blonde.

Draco marched up behind him, reached up and yanked him back by the collar, forcing Harry to turn his way so he could properly berate him, but it made him instead stumble backwards into him. They lost balance and landed in a noisy, protesting heap, Draco pinned underneath.

Harry groaned and rubbed his knee, still lying sprawled over Draco who was experiencing that unpleasant sensation of being winded and squashed. "You are so lucky I'd just put down the pan, Draco," Harry groused. Draco started pushing and kicking at Harry to get up, which he did with a hand to his back. Harry reached down and pulled Draco to his feet.

"What are you doing _here_?!" Draco snarled, his hands bunching into angry fists in the front of Harry's shirt, which today was a simple white affair with a small detail on his left sleeve.

"…making breakfast…" Harry murmured in a hurt voice. Draco shook his head disbelievingly at Harry, releasing his shirt, absently smoothing the wrinkles with a hand before stepping back and staring incredulously at his old rival.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Potter? What are you acting like such a goddamn head case?"

"I'm not a head case!" he protested, looking insulted.

"Oh? Not really? Let's examine the facts then, shall we? First, you see me, your schoolyard rival, your enemy, your antithesis, if you will, on a bus in the middle of London and you decide that it would be a 'bloody brilliant' idea to just go up and start making conversation. THEN you follow me to work, make a fool out of me, scare the entire board and make the boss assign me, _force_ me to work with you! THEN you take me out to lunch, refuse to discuss the business that you were there for in the first place and THEN YOU GIVE ME A JOB!! You _hate _me, Potter, and last time I checked the feelings were pretty much mutual. So…Let's put all these facts aside for a moment. Now, let's move on to the more disturbing aspects-"

"But, Draco-"

"Don't you _dare_ 'but, Draco' me! When have you EVER used my first name, exactly? Since when have we ever been on such a familiar basis?! What gives you the _right_ to even address me in such a manner? No, Potter, you listen here.

"You offer me _triple_ my salary to quit, and for some inexplicable reason, I did! It's not like I even need the money, it's not even that I need to work and I certainly would never have ever envisioned working with you in any aspect! Why would you even put yourself through that?! We both find each other insufferable! Oh, and let's not get started on the appliance fetish, not to mention the whole food orgasms you were having yesterday! The smiling, the outfit...It's just... And the childish behaviour! Sure, it's rather adorable in a saccharine sickly kind of way, but it's not you!"

"…you think I'm adorable?"

"Are you even_ listening to yourself_?! What the _fuck_ is going on, Potter? What the hell are you doing here, in my kitchen, in my house and in my life? What is wrong with you?" Draco's chest heaved as he attempted to get his breath back. His head was aching worse than ever and he was most certainly not in the mood for any stupid mind games this early in the morning. Harry was watching him, his eyes wide, swimming slightly. He looked absolutely tragic and Draco felt a bolt of guilt lance through him, but he stiffened his resolve. He was right this time, something was up and he was sick of Harry continually dodging questions.

Harry shut his eyes and took in a shuddering breath before drawing himself up, shaking out his shoulders, standing up straight, crossing his arms against his chest. He sighed once more before opening his eyes that had only the other day danced with an innocent sort of glee but now looked almost frozen, dead and serious. His eyebrows were set in a straight line and his lips that normally would be curved a in a smile were pursed together harshly. His face was devoid of that carefree light and expression that identified him as Harry Potter. Draco took a sharp intake of breath. The transformation was startling and gut-wrenching.

"...I should be going, I'm sorry for barging in, I didn't mean to intrude," Harry said carefully. He turned, switched off the stove and turned back around. He glanced once at Draco with those frozen eyes before brushing passed him and into the hall where his shoes were sitting by the door. Draco felt a soft breath of air as Harry passed, his scent lingering on the air currents. He breathed deeply and desperately, trying to capture that familiar, alluring smell.

He could hear Harry out in the hall struggling with his shoes quietly; the house was otherwise noticeably silent, almost cold in feeling. Draco went to stand in the arch to the kitchen and watched as Harry gathered his jacket from where he'd hung it, next to his own. Harry turned half towards the door, hesitantly as he adjusted his collar. Then he looked at Draco one last time, but instead of the deadness that had been there, and instead of the playful light that had occupied his eyes that morning, there was such an expression of hurt and sorrow in them that Draco stopped breathing for a second. Harry nodded in acknowledgement before turning and taking the four steps that brought him to the door. With a painful slowness, Harry opened it and shut it behind him and Draco watched, unsure, a little annoyed and still with one killer of a hangover, but that was all overshadowed by a sense of growing desolation. It clenched his guts and made his hands ball into painful fists by his sides until he couldn't stand the sensation anymore and he sprinted to the door, threw it open and ran into the street, looking both ways for the wayward Gryffindor. He caught sight of him a half block away and he ran a short distance before yelling out to him.

"Potter! _Potter!_ Oh for god's sake. _HARRY!_"

Harry stopped and turned on his heel, a wary expression on his face, his stance uncertain.

"You were right! I am a French toast lover!" Draco shouted into the street. Harry stood frozen for a moment before his face split into a grin that could have lit up the world and hastily walked back to Draco. He looked positively giddy, bouncing with every step. He came to stand a foot from Draco and leaned in closely with a mean twinkle in his eye, the air practically buzzed around him.

"Can I cook you breakfast?" He asked timidly. Draco gazed up into his emerald eyes, searching for s_omething_ that he couldn't define. Hesitantly, Draco smiled gently back at Harry.

"Anytime."

Harry cheered happily, grabbed hold of Draco's wrist and yanked him back down the street to his house. He turned when he reached the doorstep and stared earnestly at Draco. They were stand barely two inches a part, which Draco was thankful for, since he'd run out of his house only in his pyjamas on the chilly autumn morning. Heat and life seemed to radiate from Harry and as eager as he was to get back inside the house, for some reason, he didn't want to move from where he stood. Harry bent his head closer, that wicked gleam dancing in his eyes, sending excited shivers down Draco's back.

"Thankyou," he whispered, then he gently raised his hand to caress Draco's cheek so softly it was like a breath against his skin; barely a touch. He then spun around and let himself into Draco's house with a cheerful laugh. The moment happened so fast that Draco couldn't tell if he'd imagined it, except the lingering sensation, like silk against his cheek left as evidence. He raised a hand to his cheek and stood with a bemused smile on his face before he followed Harry's retreating back through the door and shutting it.

Oh, so this is why I quit. It kind of made sense now. 

* * *

A/N: Dudes, thanks for the support! You wouldn't believe how difficult this one was to write! Mah! Any suggestions for further chapters, I'd love. Also would appreciate some criticism if you've got it.

Anyway, I know Harry is slightly Hyper Red-Cordial-School-Kid. It's explanable though. Hope you enjoyed it!


	5. It Always Comes Back to Cake

**  
A/N:** Eventually I'll fix all the formatting on the chapters to match, but you'll have to cope with my sporadic behavior for the moment. Thanks to all reviewers so far, I'm glad you've enjoyed my writing insofar. I am looking for some serious critique too, though, so don't be afraid to be critical. Please enjoy! 

* * *

**  
CHAPTER FIVE **

_It Always Comes Back to Cake _

That morning, Harry and Draco had sat in the kitchen at the small table for breakfast. The kitchen had the best view in the house with the wide windows facing onto the narrow strip of garden out the back. Draco had someone come in weekly and maintain the backyard, so it always looked immaculate, the grass neatly trimmed as were the hedges. It was a slightly pompous design with conifer trees standing tall and erect, as if at attention in two long strips on either side against the fence. Interspersed among them, covering the ground was a spreading plant called, "baby's tears" that masked the white gravel with a carpet of frothy leaves. In the centre and two thirds the way down the length of the narrow garden stood a small bubbling fountain, a marble woman standing at the crown, the rivulets of water cascading from the jar she held in her hands. Tucked away at the very back was a little gazebo that had rose vines lacing over and around it. Honeysuckle wove its way around the rose stems, in summer perfuming the air sweetly.

As it was at the tail end of autumn though bare, the garden was still looking lovely. The gardener had great plans for his backyard and was insisting on introducing more flowering plants and long-leafed plants to contrast the existing growth when the warmer months approached. Draco didn't really spend that much time out there and was happy to let the woman do as she pleased, provided it didn't cost too much.

Thankfully, Harry had calmed down since this morning, was acting more like the Adult that he was and less like the red-cordial-hyper-school-kid that he'd been earlier. He was, however, annoyingly attentive to his new employee, often checking to see if he was enjoying his food while alternately offering to top up his drink, fetch a paper for him or asking him if he fancied anything else that he could make for him.

Harry himself had, with impressive enthusiasm, eaten a whole plate of scrambled eggs with toast and bacon in record time and was now sitting quietly with his chair turned toward the window as he enjoyed a cup of coffee, staring in gentle contemplation at the view outside, at how the light seemed to play across the narrow green expanse as clouds danced over the sky.

Draco was eating much more slowly, still not steady after last night's binge drinking session. He'd been delightfully surprised at how good the food was, and thoroughly impressed at the spread that Harry had arranged. He'd had him bring it all in from the dining room, which he rarely used and was also the darkest room in the house, sandwiched as it was between the sitting room at the front and the study at the back.

He'd been sitting there through breakfast slightly puzzled at this morning's early events, still unsure what had actually happened. All he could focus on was that light caress that filled him with a sense of anticipation and hope and no understanding of why he was feeling them. Of course, at the front of his mind was his obvious attraction to the man. Even he could admit that age had certainly treated Harry very well indeed and he most certainly did swing in that direction, so feeling physically attracted to Harry was something that he could easily take in stride. What didn't sit with him well was the fluttery feeling that he kept getting whenever the lunatic would look at Draco, returning the avid stare with a self-conscious little smile. Worst of all he felt himself blush the third time that he'd been caught eyeing Harry over.

The idea that he might be forming some schoolboy crush on the famous Harry Potter was too painful to bear thinking of, so he buried that at the back of his mind and concentrated on his toast, taking the occasional sip of orange juice.

Once done he'd excused himself, Draco showered, dressed in a pair of grey dress slacks and a black turtleneck cashmere sweater and made his way back downstairs to find Harry busy cleaning the dishes he made in the sink by hand. Draco raised an eyebrow at that.

"You know, I have a dishwasher. If I remember correctly, you nearly kissed it when you first saw it," he said with a smirk.

Harry look partly over his shoulder, regarding the blonde from the corner of his eye. The edge of his lips curved up in a grin, he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and continued scrubbing at the pan with a wash cloth.

"There are just some things that I think you should do by hand, not by magic or appliance. I like washing dishes, I find it calming. Let's me think about things without having to focus too much on it," Harry replied gently. "I find it therapeutic almost."

Draco's eyebrow flew up in disbelief. "Really? Seems like a waste of time to me. You could relax in a bath instead or do practically anything else to help you think. Wow, Potter, I never suspected you to be the house-wife type. Wonders will never cease!"

Draco poured himself another cup of coffee and watched from the opposite bench as Harry continued his steady progress through the dishes he'd caused, the kitchen filled with the slosh of water and the clink of plates as they moved in the sink. Harry stacked the clean dishes in the drying rack, the sun glinting off the edges of the ceramic plates, causing the glassware to sparkle, sending beams of light reflecting on the ceiling. This kitchen had never been host to such a domestic scene as it was now. It felt so normal, so everyday, so comfortable that Draco had to shake himself from his musings, feeling the disquiet about how not unnatural the situation was affect him.

Harry dried his hand on a dish towel and turned to lean his back against he counter top, facing Draco with quiet curiosity.

The silence stretched out for a moment more before he stood abruptly and loudly proclaimed, "To business!" and strode from the room into the hall and disappeared from view. After recovering from his momentary stupor, Draco followed Harry out, tracking him down to the study where he'd taken position in the green leather padded armchair that faced the desk, leg casually draped over the arm.

"So there was actually a reason for you being here? You don't know how relieved I am, Potter, I was beginning to suspect that I'd have to soon contact St Mungo's and ask if they were missing a patient."

"Oh shut it, you, and take a seat. The first order of business is…" Harry waited til Draco was seated and paused, letting the anticipation build to excitement. "Your employment contract!"

"My what?"

"Employment contract. You're going to write it up for me."

"Ah, yes, right…really? Should you not get someone else to write it up? I could put anything in there, you know. I could make you sign your life over to me if I wanted and we both know you're too pathetic with legal jargon that I would get away with it," Draco said with a level of astonishment.

"Well, yes you _could_, but you won't," Harry insisted.

"You don't know that," Draco returned.

"I do. I know it because if you did something like that, I would make it as painful as I possibly could. Just imagine it, Draco, me eternally signed to be your slave! An eternity for me to drive you utterly batty with every little Gryffindor nuance that I know; you wouldn't last a week!"

Draco shuddered visibly at the mental image of that.

"Ok, you're right, I won't but…I could take advantage of so much if you let me write my own contract."

"Like I said, you could, but you won't. I trust you to do the right thing, Draco. That might be stupid and naïve, but it's true, so don't disappoint me," Harry said with a penetrating look, as if trying to impress on Draco the fullness of his meaning. Draco swallowed, nodding mutely.

"Well, then, I demand only double what I was earning back at Wankers and Co. Harry, paying me triple would have bankrupted you quicker than a loose pocket at the Quidditch cup."

"I meant what I said, though, you can have triple!"

"No, Potter, I won't accept anymore than what's due to me…well, at least for the first six months. Then we'll have to see about a raise later."

"But, why?"

"Well, if I'm still with you after six months, I'm going to have to give myself more to stop myself from being driven insane, aren't I?"

"No, I mean, why are you only asking double? I offered you more, and I'd give it to you, I really would," Harry questioned, his brow furrowed cutely in puzzlement. Draco felt amusement tug his mouth into a lopsided grin and he shook his head, fully amazed at the ex-Gryffindor.

"Well, truthfully? I feel like I owe it to you, after what you said about trusting me…I couldn't very well accept such a wage if I didn't feel like I'd earned it." Draco shrugged minutely and waited for Harry's response.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him and sat up straight in his chair, carefully examining Draco from across the desk. He reached out his hand, and after a momentary flinch, Draco sat still, curious to what he was doing. Harry's palm came to rest on Draco's forehead.

"...Are you feeling well? Don't have a temperature? Not seeing or hearing strange things that you shouldn't? Have you been feeling feverish, or experiencing missed time?" A surprised laugh burst from Draco's lips and he playfully batted Harry's hand away, a shiver running down his arm as their skin made contract. He drew a quick breath and looked up into Harry's concerned face.

"No, but there's been this annoying fly that's been showing up in my life recently - first at the office, then in my kitchen. Maybe it was carrying some sort of disease that's affecting me. I read somewhere about Gryffindoritis, makes you perform stupid acts of bravado and selflessness that can't be explained through common logic. I also heard that it might create random flashes of honesty and nobility. Do you think that might be it, Doctor?"

Harry laughed in response and fell back in his chair. "Ok, Draco, whatever you say. It's your contract; you do what you like with it. Well, almost anything you like, be reasonable and don't demand too much and I'll read it over later and we'll go from there."

--

------

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Harry was lying sprawled over the armchair, indistinctly reading the titles of the books that lined the shelves with his head tilted upside down and to the side as he waited with growing restlessness as Draco tapped away at his computer, drawing up the contract for himself.

He supposed he probably shouldn't have placed so much faith in Draco doing the right thing. After all, he was a Slytherin and that meant a borderline unhealthy level of ambition, ruthlessness and cunning. So perfect lawyer material, but not necessarily trustworthy; which didn't explain why he felt that he simply could. It was one of those gut instinct moments that told him that if he didn't allow this to happen, that he'd be missing out on something truly rewarding if he wasn't careful.

Harry had to rely on his feeling; it had never steered him wrong before. Although, he suspected that there would be a few liberties taken within the contract that would probably come up later to bite both of them in the arse, but that wasn't a problem _now_. The problem now was that Harry was finding it more and more difficult to maintain his sporadic interest in the contents of the room rather than keenly observing Draco as he thoughtfully chewed on his bottom lip; his brow drawn together in concentration and effort. Maybe it had been like him this morning dodging questions, but Harry knew that Draco's stated reason for only wanting double was only a fraction of the truth and the sacrifice was intriguing and worrying at the same time.

It didn't really bare thinking about, so instead Harry switched focus to the ceiling and followed a crack in the plaster with his eyes, tracing the line back and forth along its length. After a few minutes of that, he slowly gathered himself from the chair and took a leisurely stroll around the room, looking with more detail at the books until he found one of interest.

He took it back to the chair with him, read a few pages and when that failed to capture his attention returned it back to its position and stood looking around the room. His eyes rested on a chess set that sat on a table in front of the fireplace at the opposite end of the room, facing the desk. It was a very ornate and well-kept board that on closer inspection proved to be a beautifully crafted set of wizard's chess. Mesmerised by the small, yet highly detailed figures, Harry slowly lowered himself behind the black set of warriors and stared at the empty board; a battlefield lying before him, his warriors waiting for his command.

He'd be the first to admit that he wasn't the most skilled of players, Ron always had him outwitted in the game, but he'd improved immensely with all the duels they'd enacted during their years at Hogwarts. The thought of his red-haired friend caused a shiver up his spine and his mood darkened with a cloud of guilt. If he hadn't…no, he couldn't think like that. It didn't bear thin

king about, it was utterly pointless. They'd never forgive him, anyway.

Harry touched the pieces on the board with a reverential fervour as he remembered each battle he'd ever played in. It had been years since he'd last put his hand to the game, and this exquisite set was just begging to be played. He stared a moment longer before getting up with some reluctance and leaving the room with a short nod to Draco.

He took himself out to the backyard after retrieving his coat and finding a spot on the lawn in the unexpected warmth of the sun that clouds refused to cover on this day. The air was still chilly, but the feeling was exhilarating. Harry closed his eyes tightly and let the cool breeze caress his upturned face and ruffle through his hair. _Almost like flying_, he thought with a relaxed sigh. He lay on his back; his eyes firmly shut and just enjoyed the unusual spot of good weather.

At some point, he must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew was a sharp jabbing in his side. He opened his eyes and looked up into a pair of amused grey ones that stared down at him. Draco kicked him again for good measure and offered him his hand to help him to his feet. Harry waited out the sense of befuddlement that he experienced whenever he was woken from sleep unexpectedly and reached for the offered hand. Draco tugged him to his feet, bracing as Harry nearly overbalanced, his hand gripped tightly in the others.

"Oh hell, Potter, you're one of those people who falls asleep in Hyde Park, aren't you? How very common of you," Draco remarked with some amusement. Harry scowled in response and ran his free hand through his hair. "Ah…Potter, not that I don't find this pleasant and all, but I'm going to need my hand back at some point."

"What? Oh! I'm sorry, I hadn't realised," Harry dropped Draco's hand as though burned, his cheeks flaming crimson in embarrassment. He stuffed both his hands in his pockets and swung lightly back and forth on his heels.

"Well, I'm done if you want to read over it. Highly boring stuff though, nearly fell asleep writing it," Draco said with a nod back toward the house.

"You don't like being a lawyer?"

"Hmm…it's just a job really, and I happen to be exceptionally good at it, but no, I'm not overly fond of it. The paperwork's the pits, but I like doing the legal research and attending trials. That's rather diverting."

"Diverting?"

"Yes, it's the most fun I'm likely to have, or to have _had_. Now you've got me pushing papers! Oh! I'm going to just wither away behind a desk, I can see it now!"

"Oh stop being so dramatic, Draco, I'll have you coming along and doing plenty of fun stuff yet," Harry warned. Draco leaned in with a mischievous gleam in his eye, his face only inches from his own.

"Is that a promise or a threat?" he asked daringly with a smile so wicked he looked positively impish. Harry caught himself grinning back like an idiot and moved in to whisper into Draco's ear.

"It's whatever you want it to be," He responded in a deep and rumbling tone, his lips brushing absently over Draco's earlobe. He could sense Draco stiffen suddenly and he pulled back. Draco's expression was one of confusion, suspicion and almost fear. Harry laughed loudly, covering up his own distress and clapped Draco hard on the shoulder. "Come on, show me the papers, then and we can get this over with."

Draco visibly breathed a sigh of relief as Harry stood back and lead him back into the house and into the study where he took his seat in his office chair. Harry scratched guiltily at the back of his neck and followed, coming around to read over Draco's shoulder. Harry propped his arms on the head-rest of the office chair and laid his chin against them as he scanned the lines of the document.

_Oh my god, how did he even manage to write this? _Harry wondered. He'd only gotten to the second long-winded sentence before giving up with an aggravated huff. _So boring, I'll just pretend to read the rest and just sign the bloody thing._

"So, is everything to your satisfaction, Potter?"

"Hmm…almost. Are you hungry? I'm hungry, let's go get lunch and I'll sign it afterwards. Oh! We could go back to that little restaurant, you have got to try the cake this time, oh my! I'm salivating just thinking about it," Harry murmured, his attention turning inwards as he remembered how thoroughly satisfying the experience had been yesterday. He was so intent on his memory he didn't hear the slightly strangled noise that came from the man below him.

In a voice more high-pitched than usual, Draco managed a, "sure," before Harry took off out the room.

Draco followed dazedly and Harry threw him his coat and dashed to the door, now eager to be out and about.

"So, are you going to try it?" Harry asked excitedly as he waited for Draco to lock the front door behind them. Draco muttered something indistinctly, almost to himself and his cheeks took on a charming pink tinge. Whether it was from the chilly breeze or something else was debatable, either way, the colour suited him. But, what had he said?

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Oh nothing, just something I heard somewhere," Draco responded absently. Harry gave him a sideways look as they walked down the street to the nearest bus stop, eyebrow arched in curiosity. _Well I couldn't possibly try it if you've still got your shirt on, _that's what it had sounded like. Harry shook his head at the absurdity of it. He must have misheard.


	6. Questions Answered

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The following days panned out in much the same fashion, except that Draco was not hung-over and was awake to open the door for Harry when he'd turn up on his doorstep at about nine every morning for the remainder of the week. Harry would make breakfast – insisting upon it – and Draco bore with it with as much patience as he could muster before they'd retire to the study and go over the business plan, building assessments and such – all the really mind-numbing horrible things that were unfortunately highly necessary. Harry would usually end up wandering around the room absently before staring at the chess set and then making his way out into the backyard, where on two out of three other occasions, he fell asleep on the lawn. At lunch they'd either call in for take out or go down to the local pub. The food wasn't as great as that little place near Draco's old job, but it was still quite good.

It wasn't until Friday that Draco realised that Harry hadn't answered any of his questions since the first day, he'd completely avoided them and Draco hadn't even noticed. This occurred to him halfway through lunch as they were sitting in the lounge room, Eastenders playing softly in the background, while they made their way through several different Thai dishes and sides. Immediately he'd put down his plate and chopsticks and stared grumpily at Harry who ignored the pointed stare and focused on his meal.

"Hey Draco…I've been meaning to ask. That day with the board, that prat, Nott was saying something that got you frowning and I was wondering what it was…"

"Hn."

"What?"

"You."

"me?"

"Get out."

"What?!"

"I said…Get. Out."

"Why?!"

"Because you bloody great tosser! You still haven't answered my questions!"

"What questions? Huh?" Draco glared meaningfully at Harry until realization dawned.

"Oh…Oh! Is that all?"

"It that _ALL?!" _Draco screeched, getting angrily to his feet.

"Well, what were your questions again?"

"How the HELL did you break into my house the other day!"

"Well, saying 'break in' implies that I actually had to force entry…and you, well, the door was unlocked. It wasn't even shut properly. Normally, I wouldn't worry, but you getting drunk and not locking up, still? That wasn't very clever, now was it? So, anyway, to answer that particular question – I used the front door," Harry explained with an amused half-smile. Draco stood spluttering for a moment in indignation and embarrassment. Unfortunately, he couldn't dispute this. It wasn't the first time he'd left the door open when he'd hit the bottle. His face burning in anger and embarrassment

"That was…I, it doesn't matter! WHY are you in my house?"

"Er…because I'm eating lunch with you?"

"No! Why are you here at all? Why are you in my life?"

"Because I'm your employer, and I pay you a substantial amount to look after my legal affairs," Harry replied brightly, as though he expected a prize for the right answer.

Draco slapped a hand to his face and groaned.

"Ok, and now the most pressing issue that I've still be thinking about ever since that day on the bus…what on earth is up with you, Potter? You're so….weird."

Harry's smile faded and he carefully placed his plate on the table, having lost his appetite before sliding in an exhausted fashion into the cushions lining the couch. He heaved a weary sigh and stared up at the ceiling mutely for a time. At least he hadn't immediately run away yet, Draco had been worried that it might have turned into a repeat of last time. He reached for the remote, turning off the TV, devoting his full unwavering attention to the man sat next to him. Harry had his hands lying limply by his sides but the swaying of his knees belied the agitation he was feeling. He was silent so long that Draco began to feel fidgety himself and had to refrain from either bouncing his legs up and down in symphony with Harry's swaying thighs or shake him by the shoulders until he spilled the beans. Draco never was one for physical means though, so resolutely remained still and silent, however agonizing it would turn out to be.

"…Voldemort…the war. Everything, really. So many people died, got badly injured. So many people hurt! And for what? Some stupid, messed up, crazy loon's wet dream of ultimate power? It made me fucking _sick!_ And there was everyone, looking at me and asking me, _expecting_ me to do something about it, like I'm some miracle band-aid cure, like I'm the only one who could have stood against that snake-bitch," Harry heaved an exhausted sigh and brought his knees up to his chest, curling indolently into the sofa, as if trying to hide, to guard himself from the memories.

"First, my parents, then Cedric…Sirius…Dumbledore. All these people, dying, and all because I was too stupid or not strong enough or quick enough to stop it and save them… I just…I couldn't stand it anymore, the pain and the guilt. I did my job, I got rid of the big bad wolf so that everyone else could sleep better at night and they danced in the streets and the papers pretended like it was some grand victory and made me out to be the hero. They forgot what the cost was, so focused on forgetting how bad it had been.

"They fucking forgot all the people that fell! They just, pissed on their memory and made the day I had to kill someone a goddamn celebration and ignored the fact that so many people, _too_ many people laid down their lives so that I could have a chance at taking out one person! Just one; Thousands of people dying to kill just that one person…

"For a long time I was angry and I started snapping at people who cared about me - who loved me, not for being the fucking 'saviour of the wizarding world' but for me and I couldn't stand what I was becoming. Every time I lashed out or thought that I wanted to hurt them, just to shut them up or shut them out…it felt like I was turning into Voldemort, like he'd never leave me…So I just….left. I disappeared and went totally anti-magic for fourteen months. I just hid away from everything and spent the entire time thinking about everything and nothing and looking back. I spent a lot of time thinking about all the people who were gone and I'm ashamed to admit that I wallowed in quite a depressing amount of self-pity until I actually made myself physically ill and wound up in a muggle hospital at some point. It was like I'd poisoned myself with all that anger and loathing. It's certainly how it felt.

"I don't know what it was, but getting sick like that was kind of like a well-needed kick in the pants and I realised that I don't _want_ to be miserable and I don't want to have bear the weight of so many lives and that I don't have to anymore. I'm Harry, just Harry, and I can damn well live my life finally, without Voldemort looming in the background and without fear. Life's too fucking short to spend it brooding and it's not like I can save everyone. So…I choose to be happy and love life and take pleasure in all the small things which a lot of people don't tend to notice. I guess I just came to the realisation that it's a miracle to be alive and that I'm still here must mean that it's ok to be here and enjoy the simple things. I just…I want to make every moment count from now on, and if that means that I'm a bit seat-of-the-pants crazy, well, I'm not…it's not…a bad thing is it?"

Draco studied Harry's face carefully, there was almost a desperation, a thirst for…what? Approval? Harry's eyes were wide, oddly glassy, as though he were trying not to cry. Harry seemed like he was hanging on the edge, anxious about Draco's reaction.

Eventually the blonde snorted delicately before impulsively reaching out a hand to brush Harry's impossibly messy fringe from his face.

"You don't do things by half-measures, do you, Potter?" He commented, surprised to hear what sounded like affection warming his tone. A pink tinge rose to colour Harry's cheek and he gave an almost shy smile, heavily reminding him of the boy he'd first met at Madam Malkin's Dress shop, all those years ago. Draco's eyes dropped to his lips and he suddenly had to fight the urge to lean in and taste them. _When did he get so close?_ Their faces were mere inches apart and as he studied Harry's tan features, he saw the mesmerising green eyes return the scrutiny. Harry licked his lips with a quick flick of his tongue, leaving a glistening trail to gloss the flesh and Draco's attention became unwavering. It felt like he was falling, and he put out his hand to brace himself, unknowingly placing it on Harry's now still thigh. The warmth radiating through his hand made him look down and with surprise he withdrew his hand. He pulled back abruptly and cleared his throat, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him.

"Uh, we should, we should get back to work," he mumbled and shot to his feet. He grabbed his plate and took it into the kitchen as he went then made his way quickly into the study, throwing himself into his desk chair. He dropped his head into his hands and took a moment to breath, rousing only when he heard Harry's hesitant steps at the doorway. He lifted his head and looked at a point just beyond Harry's shoulder as the other approached him at his desk.

"Draco…are you ok? I didn't…I didn't say anything to upset you, did I? Oh shit, I did, didn't I? Now you know why I avoid answering questions, because I just seem to always fuck it up! Oh shit, I'm sorry!"

"Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up and take a seat. I'm fine."

"Really?"

Draco looked directly into the nervous expression that Harry wore. He hesitated before nodding, thin-lipped. Harry's shoulders sagged in relief and he collapsed into the chair facing Draco's desk, running a hand through his hair, dishevelling it further. Draco turned his gaze to his computer screen and opened up the necessary files before resuming the work they'd started that morning. It was really highly dull; Harry had brought in his mock-up of a business plan and Draco was having to go through it and fix up all the careless errors, half-finished sentences and actually structure the thing. It was like he'd get to a certain point in his address before thinking of another thread that he would jump to immediately without any kind of conclusion to the last section or a lead-on to the next. Harry clearly hadn't had to write a report since Hogwarts and his punctuation was a minefield. How Harry had managed any modicum of success since leaving was a mystery unto itself. Draco heaved a sigh as he picked up another error in the spelling and shrugged his shoulders, preparing for the long haul.

Harry was staring absently at the ceiling, from what Draco could see, not that he was looking or anything. It's just that his attention kept wandering over to that _particular _part of the room. That Harry occupied that area was mere coincidence. Normally, at this point Harry would get up and wander the room for a bit before ending up asleep on the lawn in the chilly air, depending on whether the sun was out. As it was a miserably wet day, he seemed to be getting just that little bit stir-crazy and his feet were bouncing in an endless beat as the dangled over the side of the arm chair. Draco was painfully aware of each move, every sigh and creak as Harry adjusted his position and it was driving him to distraction. He'd read the same line five times, he was almost sure of it. He was on the verge of asking Harry to leave when Harry finally let out an agonized groan and climbed to his feet.

"I'm sorry Draco, I've got to go; I can't stand being cooped up like this. If you need me to answer any more questions, you can fire call me, ok?" Draco started. This had been the first time all week that Harry hadn't stayed til five before wandering back to wherever he normally lived.

"I don't know where you live, Potter, how am I expected to call you?" Draco asked, feeling a little put out. He hadn't actually wanted Harry to go, more just…not be in the same room as him.

"Oh, I live at Godric's Hollow, you can call me there," Harry responded absently as he stretched. He turned offering Draco a parting smile before very suddenly disapparating from his office. Draco sat up and stared for what felt like an hour at the spot that Harry had last been standing. Never had he disapparated from his house before. He'd always just walked out the front door and he'd always stayed until Draco practically had to push him out the door. Having him leave like that was shocking and seemingly out of character. Granted, it had only been a few days since they'd met up again; four in fact, but he'd gotten quickly into the ritual of having Harry Potter annoy him and he'd thought he'd figured him out. Harry was a creature of habit, he was almost certain of this, despite his impulsive nature, all his actions tended to follow a certain pattern, at points in the day or as reactions to something around him. Draco had known Harry since he was 11 and had watched him and teased him constantly through their years together so felt that he knew him. Or at least, _did_ know him. His odd disappearance left Draco feeling somehow disconnected and slightly wary. And, Godric's Hollow? The name rang a bell, something his father had said to him once, maybe.

But he couldn't get rid of the sense of unease. Maybe he shouldn't have pressed Harry about his questions…maybe he shouldn't have asked for an explanation. Maybe Harry was secretly mad at him for bringing it up! And maybe he was…maybe, he was actually upset now, and depressed! Panic started to grip at Draco's chest. He tried ignoring it, attempting to continue with his work but even though Harry had left the house, his presence remained thick and annoying and distracting.

Draco soon gave up on the Business plan, hastily saved the file and stormed from his study, throwing himself roughly onto the couch in the living room and turning on the TV. He stared unseeingly at the flickering images for a good half hour before disgustedly turning off the TV and shuffling into the kitchen. He made his way to the pantry and took out a bottle of wed wine which was calling out to be drunk. He took it upstairs with him, into the bathroom as he ran the water and prepared to relax in the rose-hip scented water. He'd climbed in and slid into a reclining position, his head resting on a fluffy towel at the back of the bath and he tried breathing deeply, slowly as he sipped his wine and tried not to think about Harry bloody Potter.

He lasted maybe two minutes.


	7. Green Eggs and erBacon?

_**A/N:** Mah! I'm so sorry I've been such a long time in posting, I hope this heals the wounds of separation! Although, there's no telling when I'll continue this, but depending on life and all in general, we'll see how we go. Criticism is also welcome and greatly appreciated (If not graciously received ;P) so do let me know what you think. I have another Fanfic in the works if you guys are interested? If you wanna know, then just leave something in your comment and depending on the overall response, I'll consider it ;P. (it's not finished either :/)_

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Harry stepped from the bathroom, still rubbing at his hair with a now damp towel, trying to remove the excess water as he went.

Earlier, he'd started a fire in his living room fireplace and it was now pleasantly warm and calling to him to come into the cosy depths of the room. Harry padded barefoot through the hall and into the cheerily lit area and as he passed a side table, he retrieved the book he'd been reading and flopped bodily onto the sagging and careworn couch. This room was his favourite in the house and more times than he'd care to admit he'd fallen asleep here in its warm and cluttered safety. There was something about the room; perhaps it was the plush burgundy carpet or the hodgepodge of different styled rugs that graced the floor or the carelessly stacked books that lined the shelves and often-times any spare surface available. It could have been the presence of all his keepsakes that sat along the windowsill and perched on the mantle of the fireplace or stood disregarded but still cherished in a darkened corner. Maybe it was the photo's that littered the walls, the occupants that waved cheerily at him as he passed. But this room, alone in his cluttered little cottage felt more than anything like his old Common Room at Hogwarts – one of the only places on earth he had ever felt safe and desired. Not all the associations were pleasant, but the years had worn off any hard edges of his remembrance and it only reminded him of home or as close to a home as he'd ever had.

Harry reached up behind him and turned on the lamp beside the couch, casting a soft yellow beam of light across his page and he settled himself more comfortably. He dragged the throw from the back of the couch and draped it over himself, tucking his feet securely within the folds of the blanket and wiggled deeper into the soft contours of the couch.

He hadn't lied, he'd really rather liked Draco's house in a museum/art gallery sense of the word. And it was a very…appropriate kind of interior for the snobbish blonde aristocrat, but he could never imagine sprawling like this across Draco's grey toned sofa or curling up on his Persian carpet with a mug of hot chocolate. There was something so very reserved about each room of Draco's house – well, each room that he'd seen. Draco had expressly forbidden him from his room and Harry had teased him about his "boudoir" as he'd laughingly called it, much to the Slytherin's chagrin and consternation. It was like he was still putting up some kind of front, even in his own home, as though he expected that people would see it and judge him on it.

Although, the study was nice enough, but it was still that little bit stylishly pompous. The whole house screamed, "I have money, loser!" which Harry supposed suited Draco just fine.

He cast a fond look around his room, with all the deep colours and warm light. He intentionally left this room that little bit too cluttered and spent an unforgivable amount of time hiding away in it. It was starting to resemble a sort of scholarly mess. Harry laughed under his breath. If Ron could see him now – a bookworm – he'd never hear the end of it. He could just picture it now, Ron's surprised face, the look of confusion, maybe disgust or mock betrayal as he would look about the room. And then Hermione, whose eyes would probably well up in tears of joy as she would give him a watery, but delighted smile. She'd rush up to him and hug him tightly, then start recommending this book or that author, practically bouncing on her toes.

Harry tried to picture what Draco's response was, but he couldn't gauge it. He thought back to their school days and an image of a snide, arrogant little face filled his head and he could see the smirk, the raised eyebrow and almost hear the disdainful remark, _"Oh, you can read, can you? Wonders will never cease!"_

Then he tried applying the grown version to that image instead. He could still see the raised eyebrow, the arrogant poise with which Draco held himself with and even that half-smirk that pulled up the right side of Draco's lips, a slight rosy tint darkening his lips. The tip of his tongue would peek through, wantonly moistening the curved planes of those lips. And then he'd put a finger to his mouth and run his tongue teasingly over his…..erm…that's right, _I'm reading this book in my hand. I am _NOT _fantasising over that prat._ Even if he looked absolutely delicious that afternoon, especially when that flush had turned his normally pale features delightfully pink. He'd been so close to Harry that he'd been able to see a few blue flecks in the grey depths of his eyes and he'd been entranced. He paused mid-thought when he realised that his hand drifted down to his thigh and was running up and down in long strokes, his thumb teasingly close to his noticeably hardening length as his hand made another pass. As if burned he jerked his hand away and stuffed it under his other arm, determinedly refocusing on the page in front of him. He'd not read a single word since picking it up upon entering the room.

Never before had Harry ever looked at another man in lust, not that he could ever recall it. He'd seen and liked many women and had even been fairly sure that he was in love with at least one of them, so the fact that he was getting hard thinking about a guy, and MALFOY no less was that little bit disconcerting. He ran a shaky hand through his still damp hair and pulled his knees up to his chest. _Have to think about this rationally,_ Harry thought to himself.

Malfoy was attractive; beautiful even, there was no getting around it. Sure, in the last four years he'd certainly aged, but his looks had refined and firmed; each feature was sharper, more chiselled. There was a certain angular beauty to him now, though his lips were still as soft and full as Harry had remembered them, often turned in a pout but more likely in a sneer. He'd lost the roundness of baby fat from his face and his white-blonde hair was now longer, almost shoulder length and pulled back in a gentle tail, though still as neat as ever. He was no longer using the hair product that he'd worn as a kid to slick his hair back against his skull, which Harry had never really liked. It hadn't really suited him. Harry caught himself briefly wondering what it would feel like to run his hands through all that blonde silky hair and had to shake the image from his head.

Maybe it was just because Draco was a wizard, and the first one that Harry had talked to in four years that made him so…interested in the man. Or maybe…Maybe he'd just never noticed how much attention he'd always paid the blonde. Whenever he thought about his time at Hogwarts, his was one of the first faces that were brought to mind. Not even his old room mates, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had left as much of an impression on Harry as the Slytherin had. Maybe he had always liked Draco…well, not like, but maybe he'd always thought Draco was attractive (when he wasn't being a prat) but was too distracted hating him to notice.

Harry threw down his book in frustration and curled up against the couch, his back to the still flickering fire. He was beginning to think that he should have just stayed out of the wizarding world entirely. But…he'd missed it. After all was said and done, he'd missed waving a wand and things just happening. He'd missed all the weird and wonderful creatures that seemed to pop in and out of his life, all the random occurrences and the sense of childlike discovery. He painfully missed his two best friends that he'd still not found the courage to contact yet. His biggest regret, however, was Quidditch. He'd missed flying with a burning passion that was almost shameful. To think that he'd miss that more than his friends…but it was a fact. You could always make new friends, wherever you went, but that particular experience was restricted to the world that he'd abandoned.

So he was back, and he was gearing up to re-enter it slowly. James Evans had been making a few infrequent forays into that world over the last week or so, but meeting Draco and the board - that had been his first full-on contact. It was kind of understandable, when he put it that way, why he'd instantly create a connection with the first familiar face he'd seen.

He never thought that things might get just that little bit screwed up, but nothing had ever worked out the way he'd wanted in his life, so he should have been used to it at this point. Harry heaved a large sigh and curled further around himself, huddling under the comforter and trying _not _to think about Draco. That could wait for tomorrow. Life could wait one more day. Just one more night, that's all he asked.

Harry screwed shut his eyes tightly and willed sleep to take him, but spent the night mostly sleepless, fitfully turning on the couch, by turns staring into the dying flames of the fire and hiding his face against he cushions of the chair.

Just one more night…

"…Do you know how many houses, how many _fireplaces _there are in Godric's Hollow, Harry?" _Hmm…Draco, that sounds like Draco_. "Because I do; oh yes, I know very well. There are 127 homes with fire places and about 48 that have gas installed instead." _The voice isn't going away…maybe I'm still asleep? No, I'm hungry too now, and it's a bit too chilly, too…ah, guess I'd better get up. _"Do you know how many I visited this morning?"

Harry rolled over and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Standing above him and glaring down at him stood an irate blonde blur.

"ALL OF THEM!!!" Draco screeched, his hands shaking, balled into fists by his sides and his breath coming in shallow quick pants.

"Oh, hi Draco, what are you doing here?" Harry replied muzzily as he reached down beside the couch for his glasses that he'd abandoned at some point that night. Draco spluttered indignantly.

"What am I…? Why you, I ought to hex you into next Christmas, you bloody sod! WHAT AM I DOING HERE! Where the _hell were _you!?" Draco yelled as he kicked the sofa in a fit of anger. Harry pulled himself into a sitting position lethargically and rubbed at a sleep-filled eye as he attempted to regain some semblance of wakefulness.

"What d'you mean?" Harry asked through a yawn and a stretch, his shirt riding up his stomach as he did so.

Draco faltered minutely before continuing his angry tirade. "It's ONE PEE EM! When you didn't show up at my house this morning I tried to contact you when I realised you hadn't even given me your house number! So I couldn't actually fire-call you to find out where you were, you stupid bloody git! And since 11 this morning I've been going from house-to-bloody-house trying to bloody find where you bloody live, but no one seems to know James BLOODY Evans!"

"…Oh…"

"Oh? Oh! Is that it?! Why you horrible Gryffindor! If I wasn't so worried about ruining my manicure I would so be hurting you right now, you rotten bastard!" Draco launched towards him and Harry, his reflexes still dulled from sleep made no attempt to stop him. Draco fisted his pyjama top tightly and yanked him to within an inch of his face, his nose crinkled in a silent snarl. "I can't believe you! Do you know how worried I was?" He practically screeched. Harry fought and lost the battle to contain a yawn, covering his gaping maw with the sleeve of his overlarge nightshirt.

"I didn't know you cared," Harry mumbled, rubbing absently at his eyes. Draco's hand froze in his shirt front, tightening imperceptibly before he let go of Harry and stepped back. Draco averted his gaze, glaringly angrily at the window.

"I don't… I'm hungry." He admitted grumpily. As if to prove his point, his stomach rumbled loudly and both men looked at his midriff with some surprise. A pained expression crossed Draco's face and he nearly swooned, eyes fluttering weakly. Harry braced him with a steadying hand to his waist, which Draco covered with one of his own, bracing his other hand against Harry's shoulder. "You've ruined me, Potter, I can't cook for myself and I could only think about your breakfasts all morning and I didn't want anything else, I've gotten so used to good food. I hate you." Harry let out a low chuckle and stood, stretching to his full height languidly before heading off to the kitchen, aware as the other moved to follow closely behind him.

The room was his second favourite in the house. Like the study, it had that cluttered air to it with spice racks, potted herbs, cutlery and decorative pieces adorning window sills and bench tops. The only modern appliances in the place, other than the kettle were the microwave and fridge that stood, almost hidden against the dark stone-hewn walls. The floor was made of rough-cut slate tiles and the benches and surfaces were all made of a dark stained wood. The room would have been gloomy if not for the large glass door that backed onto a wilderness of a backyard – clearly a modern addition to the little cottage. A window above the kitchen sink allowed more light to filter through, illuminating the hanging ivy that had curled around the central beam and the pot rack that hung suspended from the ceiling. It was a little wild in here, more resembling a garden shed than a kitchen but Harry didn't have the heart to change it.

Harry set the kettle to boil and wordlessly set the stove-top to heat, pulling out his aged frying pan, butter, eggs, bacon, milk, tomatoes and mushrooms. After a moment's contemplation, he also pulled out a packet of sausages and went about making a full continental breakfast for two. Draco glared silently from the doorway, eyeing the room warily. It was a bit…intimidating. He'd never seen anything like this room before, but he imagined that this is what a dilapidated house might look like if occupied. Maybe Harry was a squatter and he was using a glamour to disguise the fact that there wasn't in actual fact a roof. Maybe this was some kind of illusion to scare him off, to get rid of him. Or maybe Draco was just having some weird dream and any minute now Snape would come prancing through the room wearing that horrible vulture hat and carrying that stupid bag.

"You know, it's safe to sit down at the table, Draco," Harry said conversationally as he dropped the bacon into the pan. He rested his hip against the counter beside the stove and turned to face the blond who was still hesitating in the doorway. Draco gave an elegant sniff and turned his head away from the ex-Gryffindor, clearly in pouting mode. Abandoning his post momentarily, Harry stalked up to Draco who refused to look at him. Harry smirked and moved even closer guiltily breathing in Draco's smell. The blonde stilled and slowly turned to face Harry, unable to look refuse his gaze. Harry absently placed a hand on the narrow hip in front of him and slid his hand round towards the back and gently pushed against him, forcing Draco slowly, stutteringly into the room. Harry manoeuvred behind him and gave him a light push towards the table before returning to his bacon to give it a brief stir. He heard, but didn't see Draco pull out a chair and drop into it heavily.

If he'd been watching he would have seen Draco, his face aflame, his mouth handing open as he stared wide-eyed at him, but he was busy trying to regain his own composure. Draco had felt so warm and had smelled so good that it had been a struggle not to just press him up against the wall and taste him. He had wanted to just wrap his other arm around him and lean into him so badly that he was shaking slightly from the effort of holding back. This wasn't right. It wasn't normal and he was treading a very dangerous line. Every time he gave in to a little temptation he was only exacerbating the problem. The closer he got to Draco, the more he touched him, talked to him, watched him, the more he wanted to keep on getting closer, kept on wanting to touch him and talk to him. And even if it cost him everything, he didn't think he could stop. No, he didn't want to stop. He risked a glance over his shoulder at the man seated at the table. He was leaning back in his chair and had his arms firmly crossed against his chest. He was staring at Harry, eyes narrowed to slits, his face neutral and oh so sexy. Harry turned to focus on making breakfast and tried very hard to ignore his presence for the mean time.

Harry set a cup of steaming coffee in front of Draco as he waited for the toast to finish and poured himself a glass of orange juice from a bottle from the fridge. After taking a sip, he piled the toast onto a plate, setting it down on the dining room table and got the other plates piled high with fried tomatoes, mushrooms, eggs, sausage, bacon and baked beans. He sat opposite Draco and began placing a little of each onto his plate before tucking in. He felt more than saw Draco follow suit, seeing as Harry was still avoiding eye contact pointedly. He chose instead to gloss over the morning paper rather than engage the other in the imminent yelling match that would follow if he spoke now.

It was just the muggle local paper, his subscription for the Daily Prophet never having been repaid. Harry glanced over the articles til he came to the funny pages where he devoted half his attention to the crossword as he absently chewed on a bit of bacon. Through the window he could hear the beginning of a shower start as it pattered against the walls outside. The sky a mutinous grey seemed to enclose the kitchen, isolating it, making it feel shut off from the rest of existence. The sound of a clock ticking somewhere among the periphery made up the only noises except for the occasional scrape of a fork against a plate or the solid clunk as a cup was set against the table. If it hadn't been for the wire-tight tension in the air, it would have been a pleasant afternoon tea.

As it was, Harry had to try really hard to ignore the glares that Draco was shooting at him with growing intensity and frequency. After he'd been staring at the same clue for the last five minutes, Harry finally gave in and looked up at Draco, raising a dark brow at him questioningly.

As Draco continued to stare unblinkingly at him, Harry gave a heavy sigh and reached up a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "Out with it," he said simply. Draco drew in a long breath and Harry quailed inwardly to himself, sure and dreading the telling-off he was about to receive.

"You're lucky you fed me, otherwise I might still have been murderous," Draco responded with a huff. He folded his arms against his chest after pushing his empty plate away from him and crossed his legs, sitting to the side and regarding the calendar that was stuck to the fridge.

"So…how are you now?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Oh, only vaguely homicidal, but I'm feeling too full to act on it. Give me about ten minutes and we'll see if I can't get the energy up to tackle you."

"Ooh, kinky."

"Oh shut it, Potter, don't say it unless you mean it."

"Who says I don't?"

Silence.

"That's a very dangerous thing to admit to, Potter," Draco said quietly, leaning toward Harry from across the table. Harry mirrored his actions, leaving less than a foot between their noses.

"What are you going to do about it, Malfoy?" He challenged, his eyes lit with a gleam competitiveness

"What do you want me to do about it?" Draco breathed, the corners of his lips curling into a delighted sneer.

"Whatever you think is necessary," Harry whispered huskily, eyes half-lidded. Draco's cheeks flushed and his eyes looked vaguely glassy as they roamed the planes of Harry's face, as though drinking in the sight of him. Harry could feel the short puffs of Draco's breaths brush his cheeks, the sensation sending a shiver down his spine.

"You don't know what you're asking for, Potter, you _really_ don't know what you're getting yourself into," Draco warned. His lips were drawn into a half smile and they were flushed like his cheeks, mesmerising Harry so much so that he barely caught on to what Draco was saying.

Harry stopped staring at those luscious lips and averted his gaze back to Draco's penetrating stormy grey eyes.

"I honestly, _really_ truly wouldn't care…yo- it would be worth it, every second of it," he replied earnestly. Draco examined him for a few moments longer before rearing back in his chair with surprising speed, slightly dazing Harry.

"Fine, it's settled. You're coming to my New Year's Eve party. My _Slytherin_ New Year's Party. The whole gang's getting back together. It's going to be a riot!"

"What? Huh? _Why….?!" _Harry spluttered, pouting childishly and folding his arms against his chest. Draco sneered in response.

"It's your punishment for being so hard to find, you prat, and for not telling me that you weren't coming over today."

"It's not like I meant to sleep in!" Harry protested. "I just didn't get enough sleep and since I fell asleep in the den, I didn't hear my alarm. I had every intention of coming over today!"

"Whatever, you said that you'd take any punishment, so you have to stick to it. I know you, you're word is king, and you're coming," Draco paused before adding. "So there!"

Harry glared for a moment longer before slouching in defeat. "Fine, fine. But I'm coming as James Evans, not Harry Potter. As far as I'm concerned, only one other person knows that he's still alive and that's you. And for the meantime I want it kept that way…Well, at least until the grand opening of the school."

"Harry, be realistic, it's going to take months, maybe even more than a year to get that place up and running with enough benefactors, staff, students, and well, publicity to make it successful! Are you really content pretending to be someone else for that long?" Draco asked.

Harry thought for a while about it, stilling as he mulled it over. "No." He stood from his chair and moved to the glass sliding door at the rear of the kitchen, staring out intently at the barely restrained garden outside. "This is the first time I've ever just been me. The name's changed, but I haven't and I don't have everyone expecting me to do great things or grin and bear it or be broody or whatever. For once…I'm just me. I'd like to keep that for a bit longer, for as long as I can, really. It's really not something that I'll ever want to give up but I know it's not going to last forever."

Draco made his way over to the tall man in front of him and moved to stand beside him, briefly studying his wistful expression before turning his gaze outward. Hesitantly he laid a hand on his shoulder awkwardly, never quite sure what how to comfort people.

After a long moment of silence, Draco finally responded. "For what it's worth…I always thought you were nothing special."

Harry let out a wet-sounding chuckle and smiled at the blond momentarily. "Yeah that's true," he agreed with a nod.

"Actually, to be brutally honest I thought you were all hype - a talent-less, gormless freak of nature that polluted the school halls with his eccentric ways and weird-ass friends and those dorky glasses."

"Yeah, um, thanks, Draco, I get the picture," Harry replied, lightly punching Draco in the shoulder.

"…I…ah…I also used to be highly jealous, too. Not of your looks of course, because as we all know, I'm the sexiest thing to walk this earth whose features cannot even remotely be compared to by others. It was definitely not your sense of fashion though you seem to have improved over the years," Draco put a finger to his lip in deep contemplation. "I guess it was because you were so effortlessly natural at all the things that I had to try really hard at. Like flying and defence against the dark arts and other things. Plus you had this horde of followers chasing after you, and I know it may be hard for you to believe, but I'm a bit of an attention whore and I wasn't used to being forgotten like I was in Hogwarts. At least not when compared to you."

"Draco, I...I"

"Oh shut up, I know what you're going to say and I refuse to believe a word of it. Now, are we actually going to do some work today, or is this going to be a full waste of the day?"

"Hmm…well, it's pretty late to bother now…how about we go waste it down at the local pub?"

"What, drinking at 2 in the afternoon?" Draco said with mock affront. Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Well…ok, but you're buying!"

"Don't I always?"

"Oh, just shut up and get dressed. I will not been seen out with you dressed like that."

"I should hope not, seeing as these are my pyjamas."

"Oh, I just thought that's what you wear when not in the presence of my shining and dominating glory."

"Er…right. Um, I won't be long, just make yourself at home, feel free to roam around if you like. The rest of the house isn't quite as scary as the kitchen," Harry said with a mild chuckle. Draco raised an eyebrow and looked around the kitchen one last time before following Harry out.

"…I don't know…this place…it suits you. Which, really when you think about it is rather scary."

"Yeah, yeah."

"No really, it is!"

"Ok."

Draco followed Harry down the hall as he made his way along the passage presumably towards his room, peeking into any open doorways curiously as they went. Harry made his way up a flight of stairs and to the end of the hall and turned at the final door along the walk.

"Erm…unless you want a full show, you're waiting out here."

"And if I did want a full show?" Draco asked innocently, batting his eyelashes coyly. Harry rolled his eyes and pointed to the floor between their feet.

"Stay. Staaay! No! Stay here, I'll be right out, ok?"

"Sigh….you're such a spoilsport, Potter."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too, Malfoy"

Wait…oh shit. _I did not just say that out loud…holy fuck._

"Well, yeah, of course you do!" Draco responded after a moment's pause. He gave Harry a parting smirk as he gently shut the door behind him. Draco leaned against the wall beside the door and let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. This day was just not getting any better.

On the opposite side of the wall, Harry was thinking much the same thought.

--

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	8. Moscato

Ok, alcohol was making things _much _better. Draco was on his second glass of Moscato and feeling _fine._ They were sitting in a raised garden area behind the pub at one of the outdoor tables the sun beating down gently on their heads even as the autumn breeze ruffled their hair. It was another unseasonably fine day and Harry was sitting with his chin cupped in his palm and a faint smile on his lips as he gazed out over the rolling green fields in the distance, a pint of lager sat in front of him, largely untouched. He looked so peaceful just sitting there. Harry shut his eyes briefly and took a deep breath, as if savouring the freshness of the weather.

"So, how long have you lived there?"

"Hm? Oh, I bought the house shortly after I turned eighteen, but I left it not long after when I went, you know, AWOL. Just moved back in over a week ago. You wouldn't have _believed_ all the dust," Harry replied absently, favouring Draco with that wistful little smile. Draco felt heat rise to his cheeks, _just the wine, that's all._

"Didn't the neighbours notice that someone resembling the Great Harry Potter had started squatting in his old house?"

Harry chuckled and took a swig from his glass before answering. "They still don't know I live there. I set up an enchantment at the cottage, kind of what I've done for my appearance, but instead, people just kind of don't want to go near it. There were enough little traps and hexes I'd left set up that after a while the reporters just gave up trying to sneak in and there's even a rumour in the neighbourhood that I cursed the land before I left…It's terribly convenient for me."

"Wow, Potter, all those enchantments? That's very impressive….who helped you?"

"No one."

"No one? Please, Potter, I remember our school days, there's no way you could have pulled this off by yourself," Draco insisted with a smirk. Harry's brow creased in a frown and he glared for a moment at him before looking outward over the landscape.

"Of course you'd think that, Malfoy, you never did think much of me, did you?" Harry abruptly stood and walked to the edge of the raised garden leaving Draco sitting breathless and a little stunned at the table. Harry had his hands on his hips as he gazed pensively outward, the wind whipping his wild hair about his head and tugging at his coat.

_Oh Jesus, now I've upset the bastard,_ Malfoy thought with an aggrieved sigh as he climbed to his feet and strolled over to Harry. Draco slipped his hands into his pockets and moved to stand next to the slightly taller man, his arm lightly brushing his.

"You're wrong, you know," Draco said conversationally. "I thought you were an enormous prat, an egotistical, attention seeking media whore and I was so sure that you were better at some things, like Quidditch just to spite me." Harry snorted and looked sideways at Draco, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I also thought that your fame carried a lot of your marks in school, sure, but I never thought you were stupid. Just…prattish."

The two remained silent for a short pause as they stood together. "Then again," Draco continued. "I also used to think that who won house cup was a crucial and life altering event and that it really mattered in the end…so, I guess that just goes to show what a 15 year old knows, now doesn't it?"

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure you used to think that the sun shone out of Snape's arse too," Harry responded with a barely concealed grin. Draco sputtered indignantly at the ex-Griffindor before punching him harshly in the shoulder, to which Harry burst out into that addictive, attention grabbing laugh.

"For that, it's your shout next round," Draco admonished. Still chuckling, Harry playfully pushed Draco as they made their way back to the table.

"I've paid every round, and I'll probably pay every other round, so stop your bitching!" He replied cheerfully as Draco gave him a push in retaliation, his face beaming with a smile. Draco tried and failed to hide the grin that was pulling at the corners of his lips. Yeah, alcohol made everything better. They resumed their seats and finished off their drinks before moving into the pub itself as the wind became chillier and the open air less inviting.

The pub was traditionally furnished with muted lighting, maroon leather upholstered stools and booths with dark-wood, highly polished tables. At one end of the room a fire had been lit in the fireplace, filling the room with its warmth and glow. Harry and Draco found a table close by and they'd placed another order for drinks from a passing waitress.

Harry spent a good few minutes studying Draco's features.

"You know what?" he asked suddenly, startling Draco from his quiet reverie.

"What?"

"I used to think the exact same thing of you," Harry replied. "You know? I always thought you were an enormous prat with an inbuilt superiority complex and an overfondness for hair gel. I used to think that your name helped you get your good grades and that basically you could have done with a swift kick in the rear." Draco narrowed his eyes at Potter and gritted his teeth. Fine, he'd said about the same thing to Potter, but still, that was no excuse. He raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"What, not pure evil? You left that one out," Draco hissed and took a large swig, finishing off his current glass of wine. Harry looked puzzled for a moment then leaned across the table unexpectedly. With an intense gaze he subconsciously reached across and gripped the hand Draco had around the glass stem.

"No, I never thought that of you. I thought you were petty, mean – sometimes to the point of cruelty, but…no, never evil. You were always too good for something so base," Harry said earnestly. Draco felt his breath catch in his throat. _Harry was_ _holding his hand!_ A hot blush started at his neck and continued up til he was sure he was bright red all over. His gaze fell to their hands and Harry, noticing the direction of his stare, gasped and snatched his hand back as though he had been burned.

Both men averted their gazes and fervently studied the décor of the pub until their fresh drinks arrived, remaining in silence all the while. Once Draco felt composed enough to talk he turned back to Harry and raised his glass.

"I propose that we put past misgivings behind us. So, let's toast to a sudden and rather pointed bout of forgetfulness."

Harry grinned, a sparkle in his eye. He clinked his glass with Draco's and muttered, "To forgetfulness" in time to Draco's own utterance. They both took a swig from their drinks and looked at one another for a while. Draco, feeling the tension seem to increase cleared his throat and looked away.

"Splendid weather we're having for Autumn, wouldn't you agree?" He managed lamely.

"Er…yeah, wonderful…hey, do you wanna go flying some time?" Harry asked suddenly. Draco turned to him and blinked before a dazzling smile brightened his features. To fly again! He hadn't been flying since…well, it was so long ago now that he couldn't even remember when. He nodded enthusiastically as he took another sip of wine.

"How long has it been?" Draco asked curiously. With Harry having been in the muggle world for the last three years, he doubted that he'd got much in the way of practice in. It was a shame really; Harry had been such a brilliant flyer – and a seeker. He'd never been particularly elegant, but he was fearless, powerful and fascinating. Harry was the reason that Draco lost all the Slytherin vs Gryffindor matches in more ways than one, if he were to own the truth.

"Um…I think it was the year Umbridge was Headmistress, the silly bitch. I mean, I've flown a bit since then, like the following year, but there really wasn't any fun in _that_ particular excursion, but that's about it. Hey! I even have a snitch that we can play with if things get a little boring," Harry said.

"Really? How'd you get that?"

"Dumbledore's will."

"Oh…um…"

"Ah…yeah…anyway, I've only got my Firebolt. What about you?"

"Still have the old Nimbus 2001 hiding somewhere, probably in the broom cupboard at the town house." Draco could feel a pit of frantic energy building and fizzing in his stomach and he had to contain himself from bouncing in his seat, so excited by the prospect of being in the air again. "Ok, when?"

"Tomorrow's Saturday, and I don't have any plans…"

"Perfect!"

It was another glass of wine for Draco before they finally ambled from the pub. Admittedly, Draco was swaying a fair bit and would have fallen on many an occasion if it weren't for Harry slinging an arm around his waist and guiding him back to his cottage.

It was just gone nine o'clock in the evening and the sun was low on the horizon, lending the night a false sense of earliness. Stumbling over the lintel in the hallway Draco giggled and made his way into the wilderness of the kitchen, headed directly for the pantry.

"Anything to drink?" he nearly slurred, actually quite proud of how sober he sounded, until another unrestrained giggle escaped him. He wrenched the door open and studied the shadowy depths through squinted eyes. _Too much food in the way!_

A presence came up behind him and an arm drew past him to shut the door. "No, Draco, no more alcohol," Harry murmured, his voice so close to Draco's ear it made him jump. He stumbled backwards, losing his balance and nearly trod on Harry's toe as he crashed into his chest. Harry buckled slightly under the sudden weight and took a bracing step backward, his arm automatically wrapping around Draco's narrow waist. Draco let his weight be supported by Harry and slid his hand up the arm encircling him, scratching at the thick material of his coat, giggling softly under his breath even as he craned his neck to favour Harry with a tiny pout.

Harry returned the look with an incredulous shake of his head and a grin. "I think you should probably go home now, Draco," Harry said softly.

Draco cried out suddenly and turned to face the ex-Gryffindor, carelessly flinging his arms around his neck. "_Nooo!"_ he wailed into Harry's chest. "Wanna stay _heeeeerrre_!" He felt the groan rumple deeply in the chest he was using as a pillow and hid a grin against the warm body supporting him.

"..Fine…" a deep sigh. "I knew you were going to be a handful. Come on, bed."

Harry herded Draco upstairs and sat him on the queen sized futon. He bent to remove Draco's shoes from his feet and stood back up to tug his jacket off, throwing it carelessly to the chair by the door from across the room. Draco was smiling distantly and swaying where Harry had left him, trying to focus on the green lit display of an alarm clock by the bed.

Harry gently pushed against Draco's chest until the blond fell back against the pillows. He stood for a moment, fighting a losing internal battle before bending down and unhitching Draco's dragon-hide belt and tossing it to join his jacket. He then grabbed at the sheets as Draco sleepily manoeuvred his legs compliantly out of the way and tucked him in.

Draco wriggled deeper into the blankets, pulling them up above his nose and slinking down lower against the pillows, his eyes and hair the only visible part of him peeking above the blankets. He sighed heavily, rolled onto his side and almost immediately his breaths fell into a steady sleep pattern. Harry stood leaning against the wall close to the sleeping man occupying his bed and studied what little of his face he could see.

He was jealous in a way…he'd never been the kind of person to so easily fall asleep, sometimes taking up to and even longer than an hour on occasions for sleep to take him. Draco was by the looks of it the kind whose head would hit the pillow and they'd start snoring five minutes later, if not earlier. He'd bet money on Draco also being one of those people who could sleep anywhere; in a barn on a bale of hay, on an inner city train line, crammed against the window or under a tree in St James Park in the middle of the day. It made a flash of amusement tug his lips into a lopsided grin. He pushed away from the wall after a few moments of contemplation and approached the bed. He let a hand run through silky blond locks before trail the hand down the length of Draco's frame as he made his way out of the room and downstairs to his den.

As he entered the room he sent a thought to the fireplace and slowly the sound of sap crackling and flames licking filled the emptiness of the room. Harry kicked off his own shoes, removed his belt, jeans and over shirt. In singlet, boxers and socks threw himself bonelessly onto the sinking depths of the sofa and wrapped the throw around his shoulders as he stared into the merrily crackling fire.

It took him longer than a hour to get to sleep that night, thoughts occupied by the person who also occupied his bed and even when sleep finally did take him, it was only to dream about grey eyes and soft lips.


	9. Getting Even

_**A/N: **I know, I know. A loooong time in coming, but I think you can trust me when I say that this chapter was well worth the wait. This doesn't necessarily mean that I'll be updating more frequently, but at least it's something to amuse you guys in the meantime. I think this is the longest chapter yet and there's a little bit extra in there for you guys who've stuck with me too. Anyway, onto the actual story! Oh yes! Please R & R!_

* * *

"Ughhh….uh…"

Sun. Evil, evil sun was dancing in wavering patterns across Draco's face. He reached muzzily around himself for the blanket to pull above his face and came up short. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, cursing the cheerfulness of morning and buried his head underneath his pillow.

His breathing settled and he began to nod back off when the scent of coffee began to permeate through the room, awakening his stomach with a sickening lurch.

Never again. He was never drinking that much. Ever. Again. Draco batted the pillow away and turned bleary-eyed towards the direction of the smells.

Wait a second. "This isn't my room," Draco mumbled. He looked around curiously. The room was painted in a warm shade of caramel with the window frames and mouldings done in chocolate brown. The large bay window that stood opposite the foot of the bed was dressed in royal purple curtains that were drawn and tied back with a cream coloured sash. White lace sheers blocked out some of the morning sunlight, but allowed enough through that it had disturbed Draco in his sleep.

He sat up slowly as he heard the door click open and turned his gaze toward the sound. Harry pushed the door open carefully, a tray balanced in one hand and a mug precariously gripped in the other as he manoeuvred through.

He smiled brightly when he noticed Draco's awakened state and made his way to the bed, dropping the tray on the bedside table and sitting perched at the end of the bed near Draco's feet. Draco glared sourly at Harry who simply ignored the look and took a sip from his mug.

"Morning, Grumpy," Harry addressed him with another blinding flash of teeth. Draco's heart seemed to skip a beat and he blinked dazedly before nodding slowly. He looked over to the tray beside him and eyed off the contents. One slice of apple and cinnamon toast, a grapefruit half and what looked to be a glass of orange juice stared back at him. The toast was calling rather loudly to be eaten so he picked it up daintily by the corner and took a small bite. Like everything else that Harry had ever given him to eat, it was delicious and he sat up straighter, quickly taking another, sizably larger bite and glancing at Harry with a raised brow.

"Yeah, homemade. I was bored this morning and I thought it would be nice to have. Haven't had it in a while," Harry explained. "Hey! Guess what, Draco! We're going flying today!" Harry jumped up rather suddenly from the bed, sloshing some coffee onto the carpet as he did so. He quickly swigged the rest and turned to the wardrobe, yanking it open and leaning inside, inspected the hanging contents. He reached in and started rifling through each item until he came upon a maroon coloured robe that had a yellow and maroon striped hood attached to the back. He turned back to Draco and holding the robes up to his chest.

"Reckon they'll still fit?"

Draco shrugged noncommittally before taking a sip of the juice and continuing with his breakfast. He nearly choked when Harry whipped off his shirt in front of him and tossed it on a chair in the corner. He stood bare-chested peeking in at his wardrobe again before pulling out a rather worn house shirt in maroon and gold. There was a large crest emblazoned on the back, proclaiming the shirt-owner as a Gryffindor. Harry pulled it over his head and turned to face the mirror that was attached to the inside of one of the wardrobe doors. He twisted and turned, checking out the fit of the shirt.

"It's my old school shirt…think it might be a bit too tight now…damn…I liked this shirt…Draco, what do you think?"

Harry turned to Draco expectantly. "Um. Draco?"

He was sitting there toast halfway to his open mouth and his face was bright red. The shirt. The shirt. That bloody stupid shirt! It clung to Harry like a second skin, showing off beautifully the planes of his chest; not over-muscled but none too shabby either. Draco could see every delicious dip and angle of Harry's chest and oh! His shoulders… and just. Draco shook his head and cleared his throat, bringing his gaze away from Harry's abdomen and to his face. The raven-haired man was returning the look with a bemused one of his own.

"Hmph…yes, too tight, Potter and much too old. I simply won't be seen with you dressed like that," Draco said. Harry laughed softly and nodded.

"Okay, fine, new shirt," Harry pulled the shirt off with one movement which had Draco nearly spilling the dregs of his orange juice onto his lap and returned to his search for t-shirts. Eventually he settled for a dark moss green shirt which fit nicely and set off his eyes like gemstones.

Draco sniffed with feigned disinterest and looked down his nose at Harry who was watching his reaction earnestly. "I suppose that's adequate. I approve of the choice of colour, by the way."

Harry just shook his head ruefully and threw the robes over his shoulder.

"I can lend you something to wear if you like, and you can use the shower, too, if you want to," Harry offered as he made his way to the door.

"No, I think I'll just pop back home and get ready there. I need to pick up my broom anyway."

Harry nodded. "Okay, but come back here by about noon or I'm going without you," He warned with mock seriousness.

Draco just smirked, stood from the bed and _disapparated_ without a word. It was only after he'd re-oriented himself that he realised that his shoes, socks, jacket, tie, and oh god, his _belt_ were still in Harry's bedroom.

The thought made him pause mid-step as he made his way towards his bathroom. He stopped and a giggle broke free from his mouth. He clapped a hand in surprise over his traitor lips and couldn't suppress the next bout of laughter. Stupid brain. _Gives me a good excuse to get back in his bedroom._ Indeed.

Draco slapped himself in the face and set his expression to scowl as he stormed the rest of the way across the hall. Today….would be interesting. He was excited, apprehensive and he felt nervous, like it was a date or something. His stomach fluttered at the mere suggestion of it. He shed his shirt and pants as he walked. He turned the shower on to almost scorching, stepped under the spray and took his time to get the post-hangover funk from his skin. He took a leisurely amount of time washing every inch of his body and washed his hair. When he got out he mopped up the excess water with his towel that he left discarded draped over the toilet. He quickly brushed his teeth, ran a comb through his hair and strolled down the hall back towards his room.

"Hey Dra-"

Draco froze on the spot, caught mid-step halfway down the hall. He turned his head minutely and caught sight of Harry standing, mouth gaping, hands brought up in front of him clutched around his belt, tie and shoes. The only sign of life in the man was a bright red blush that made its eager path up his neck and all the way to his hairline. Draco stood for what felt like an eternity, poised on a knife edge of indecision. Hm…which option to go with…? Option one: run screaming like a little girl into the bedroom and barricade the door, option two: cover himself up before dying of humiliation in the hallway, option three: pretend that nothing was amiss and calmly make his way into his bedroom….

_I think I'll go with…option one!_

"Argh!"

"Argh! Holy shit!"

_SLAM!_

Harry stood at the top of the stairs still staring down the empty hall. The clothes he had held against him toppled from his grip and his hands were shaking with adrenaline. It took him a moment to remember to breathe and his eyes skittered around the hall in shock. Harry ran a hand unsteadily through his hair and collapsed against the wall, a cloud of stunned silence fogging his brain. He took an unsteady breath and let it out with a bark of laughter. He rubbed at his face and sank to the floor, propped against the wall.

At that point Draco was lying face down on his bed with his hands knitted behind his head as he moaned into his pillow. As if life couldn't get _any _worse. Bloody Harry Potter walking in at the most inopportune moment; so bloody typical. Draco had always observed that his luck was worst whenever the famous boy was around. Only Harry ever unsettled him, made a fool of him and managed to make him feel so small and insignificant. Not even his father had that particular honour. Draco waited for his heartbeat to calm back down to a steady pace before he went to his closet and pulled out a set of Quidditch robes that he'd bought on holiday in Europe a few years back. They were in his old house colours of green and silver and they fit him nicely.

He took his time dressing and re-brushed his hair, letting it dry in the heated room. Once dressed he sat on his bed and stared at the door, his hands clasping his knees, which bounced nervously up and down as he contemplated simply staying there, moping for the rest of the day.

It wasn't as though he'd be able to avoid Harry forever, seeing as well, Harry _was _his boss, after all. But the sheer abject humiliation he seemed to suffer whenever in proximity with the ex-Gryffindor made the prospect of leaving his room that little bit more daunting.

Harry cautiously approached Draco's bedroom door, hesitating for a moment before knocking tentatively. "Um…Draco? I'm….erm…sorry! I was only returning your stuff, and I didn't mean to…I mean…I…um…I'm really sorry, is all," Harry stuttered.

Harry stumbled inward as the door was suddenly pulled open and found himself nose-to-nose with Draco whose cheeks were flushed crimson. Harry backed up hastily at the expression on the blonde's face, his back hitting the wall opposite.

Draco folded his arms against his chest and leant against the doorframe, glaring in seeming anger at the other. Harry grinned nervously and laughed as he reached a hand to scratch at the back of his neck.

The hall was filled with a pregnant pause as Draco silently eyed Harry over.

"…You realise that I'm going to get even with you for this, Potter," he finally warned, straightening from his pose. Harry's eyes widened comically and his face suddenly went bright red. Draco stalked up to Harry and made a sudden turn, heading down the stairs towards his broom cupboard. He turned when halfway down the stairs and looked back at Harry, who was still pressed up against the wall. "Well? Are we going?"

Draco didn't wait for a response and continued on his way. After retrieving his broom he looked for Harry who was leaning against the back of his sofa, deep in thought.

"Harry?"

"Huh? Oh, um there's a field behind the cottage, the local teams use it but they won't be round for another few hours, so we should have the air to ourselves for a few hours still," Harry said. Draco nodded his understanding gestured with his hand and waited for Harry to _disapparate_ before following.

When Harry had said the field was behind the cottage, Draco has assumed that he'd meant a few yards beyond the coppice that sheltered the rear of the house. What he'd obviously left out was the three miles of farmland and forest in between. Draco was panting and rather annoyed as he lagged behind Harry, struggling over patches of uneven ground.

"Tell me, Harry, was there any _particular _reason that we just trekked through the bloody wilderness for a half hour to get to a bloody field when we have broomsticks?" Draco snarled as he finally caught up to Harry, whose face was flushed and his smile brilliant from the exercise. That fact alone was enough to aggravate the blond who happened to be feeling decidedly dishevelled and cranky and he bristled as Harry smiled cheerfully, his eyes crinkling in mirth.

"Muggles live close by, plus I enjoy the walk."

"Oh…well, I supposed that's semi-reasonable," Draco replied. Harry chuckled and gestured for Draco to follow as they crossed over a break in the dilapidated fence that stood in their way. As soon as he'd stepped onto the field, Draco had to hold back a gasp as the landscape seemed to ripple and reveal a marked Quidditch pitch with rough-hewn wooden goals; three either end of the field and a small stand low to the ground for spectators.

It was all built quite low, nothing like what they'd played on at Hogwarts, but even so it was still rather impressive. It was a little rustic, but the grounds were well maintained and there, halfway between either end on the far side of the pitch with a score board reading "Home" and Visitors".

"The locals use it every weekend, and they usually keep it in good knick. I think they're trying to set up a local team this year, I was reading something about it on the pub notice board the other day…" Harry sighed as he gazed at the far goal posts. "To be playing again…in a team…" He shook himself after a moment and turned to Draco.

"Shall we?" Harry asked with an inviting grin. Draco felt his mouth twitch upward in response and he could feel the thrill deep in his chest that he always got when about to fly, the challenge sparkling vividly in his eyes. He smirked and mounted his broom and waited as Harry copied him and they took off at the same moment, like shots bursting forth from a cannon.

They rode high, shooting up through the sky, leaving the field well below them, staring steadily at the other. They hit sixty feet and idled, slowly circling in a wide arc, smiles wicked and wild.

"Race you?"

"I will slaughter you, Potter!"

"Prove it!"

"You're on!"

And off they went, racing from one end of the field to the other as the wind stole the breath from their lips. Draco pushed his broom harder, bringing him next to Harry, giving him a playful push as they both weaved in and around the goal posts. They raced from end to end, no clear goal or final finishing line, revelling in the feel of the world speeding past and the sheer exhilaration that comes with defying gravity. It became more of a game for Harry; lead Draco and see where he followed. Could he keep up, could he beat him, do the same tricks. Draco kept even, lagging behind occasionally when the Firebolt outstripped his Nimbus 2001. It was amazing, thrilling and perfect. Neither had been on a broom in so long, but it was almost like returning home, returning to one of the few joys that Draco had ever had in his short life; one that they'd not ever managed to rob him of. He looked briefly at Harry's face and saw the same joy reflected in his expression and a thrill that had nothing to do with the joy of flying warmed him even as the chilly wind bit at his face.

Their knees grazed together as they made a sharp turn and Draco gave another light shove to Harry, which proved to be a mistake as he grabbed onto his wrist and yanked, pulling Draco sharply causing him to spin off course into a tight circle around Harry. He growled as he fought his panic, pulling his broom higher, racing upwards. Harry mimicked his moves and they corkscrewed upwards, their robes whipping out behind them as they climbed higher. They felt their ears pop, their circling slowed and they sat for a moment, panting and out of breath as they shared a look full of challenge. Both were flushed from the cold winds and Harry's hair was more tousled then normal.

Draco quirked an eyebrow and looked down past his knee. "Race you?" he whispered. Harry's famous eye-catching, contagious smile spread across his face and Draco found his breath hard to catch for an entirely different reason. At some unseen signal both plummeted toward the ground, spinning and diving like eagles. The green of the pitch rushed up to meet them and Draco pulled up about ten feet from the ground and felt his heart jump into his throat as Harry continued to fall before pulling up two foot from impact. Harry made a lazy turn and gently pulled up even with Draco and laughed in exhilaration and victory. Draco narrowed his eyes at Harry and like a whip smacked him across the back of the head.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Harry sputtered in indignation.

"Prat."

"Ha! You just wish that you could do that!"

"In your dreams."

"You're jealous!"

"Not likely."

"Whatever, do you want to play with the snitch?"

"Is that a stupid question?" Draco retorted. Harry reached into his robes and retrieved the little golden orb. It was slightly tarnished but like clockwork the thin, spindly wings unfurled and fluttered in Harry's light grip. Harry gave Draco one last look before he let the snitch go and it circled, weaved and bobbed between the pair before taking off and disappearing.

The pair lost track of time as they chased the dazzle of gold that spun, sparkled and darted through the air over the field. It wasn't until they'd both decided to stop for a drink that they found that an audience had appeared for them. About a dozen men stood, crouched or lazed in the grass, brooms draped casually over shoulders or lying absently over legs as they stared at the two as they made their way back down to earth.

Harry scratched the back of his neck nervously and adjusted his glasses. "I'm sorry, we didn't mean to hog the field," he said with an apologetic half-grin.

A big man – tall, well over six feet and built like a wall stepped forward, his broom in his right hand. He narrowed his eyes calculatingly at the two and slowly circled them. Draco raised an eyebrow and shared a nonplussed glance with Harry who silently returned it with a minute shake of his head.

"Seekers, eh?" the man rumbled. His voice was deep and rough like gravel. It seemed that in every sense of the word, this man was a mountain. His face cracked in a friendly grin that on a smaller man would have been cheerful, but was rather disconcerting on him. The other men were eyeing the two with a curiosity that did little to settle the nervous feel in the pit of Draco's stomach.

There was an awkward silence as the two groups continued to study the other warily until the big man finally stopped, a hand stroking his stubbly chin in contemplation. He turned back to Harry and cleared his throat.

"…Ever thought of playing on a team?"

Harry looked stunned, his eyes widened and he stood a little straighter, then a red flush began to creep up his neck and turn his already blushing cheeks a healthy embarrassed tone. He looked at Draco, refusing to meet the man's eye as he muttered his reply.

"Speak up, man!" the other boomed at him, both Draco and Harry jumped back at the tone and the other men laughed in amusement.

"Sorry, um, no, I hadn't really thought about it…I mean, I'd _thought_ about it, but not seriously…" Harry stuttered, intimidated.

"What about you?" the man snapped and Draco was surprised to find the question directed at him. His mouth gaped open and shut - momentarily speechless - before he regained his composure.

"Unfortunately I am, _was_ a very busy man, didn't have the time to join a local team; aside from there not being any teams in muggle London," Draco responded. The man nodded, before straightening abruptly and clapping his hands, startling the two yet again.

"Well, if you ever feel like it, we're always welcoming new members, and we could use seekers like you two. Ours was injured last match, still has a concussion, so we're a bit short…Anyway, you go to the pub and tell old Andy that Mick sent you. He's our team manager, when he can be. He sets up all the competitions and such anyway, and he's our bookie, too.

"Nice display of flying there, boys, but if you don't mind, we're going to steal the field from you now," the man, Mick said jovially. Draco nodded silently and stepped back, Harry a pace behind him. They watched for a moment as the team leapt into the air and began their drills. The team itself wasn't brilliant, but they weren't half bad. Their performance seemed solid and their teamwork unquestionable.

Harry and Draco watched for a short while before making the small trek back to the cottage, sweaty, a little sore and still needing a drink. Draco was hoping there would be alcohol in it; the day had been…stressful, weird, exhilarating and tiring and just that little too much for his sensitivity.

As they cleared the last of the trees Harry turned to Draco with a gentle smile. "Would you like to stay for dinner?" At the mere mention of food Draco's stomach rumbled loudly and Harry laughed in amusement.

"Let's order in, I'm too tired to cook, but we should shower first," Harry muttered absently as he slid the kitchen door open. Draco stopped mid-step and his mouth fell open at the suggestion.

Was he..? Did he just…?

"Geez, Potter, and we haven't even been on a date yet! That's moving a bit fast, don't you think?" Draco remarked coyly. Harry spun on his heel, his eyes wide and mouth gaping in surprise.

"I, that is, I mean…I didn't…can use…um…" Harry's stuttering petered off and his eyes narrowed suddenly in a scowl. "You're making fun of me," he growled. A shiver ran up Draco's spine and he fought the urge to melt into a puddle of aroused goo on the floor.

"Yes, yes I am."

Harry's fist quite suddenly clenched around the front of Draco's robe, he yanked him over the threshold into the kitchen and against his chest. Draco could feel his heart flutter wildly in his chest and he was sure that Harry could feel it against his knuckles.

Harry was glaring into wide grey eyes and enjoying the scared rabbit look. "You're making me angry. You wouldn't like me when I'm angry," he rumbled. The glare lasted a short moment before he broke down in laughter, using his grip of Draco's robes to keep himself upright as he bent over, clutching at his stomach with his other hand.

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry and gave him a small smack to the back of the head. Harry barely paused to rub at his abused skull as the laughter continued to fill the kitchen.

"Sorry," he wheezed out between abating giggles. "I've been dying to say that ever since I saw the movie!"

Draco cuffed Harry again before strutting through the kitchen to the hall, Harry closely following behind. "Quick, go shower, you silly fool, so I can get my turn at it," He commanded, gesturing up the stairs with his hand.

"Yes, highness," Harry retorted, climbing the stairs at a brisk jog. Draco hung back, watching the retreating back appreciatively. He stood at the landing, considering briefly his revenge, which he'd not forgotten even after the great time they'd had flying that day. A plan began to slowly form and with it came Draco's trademark evil smirk. His mind made up, he trouped up the stairs and approached the bathroom on quiet feet.

Inside he could hear the shower going and it was calling him to come inside. Draco maintained his silence outwardly, but he was cackling evilly inside his head at his dastardly plan.

_/What NEVER happened, but what we all wanted to. Consider it a belated April Fool's if you will, or a gift for those who've been patient with me between posts and who still read this!/_

Carefully he cracked open the door and slipped in through the narrow gap he'd made between the door and the frame. The shower was at the other end of the narrow room and he could make out Harry's figure vaguely behind the heat fogged glass.

The shower door was only partially shut, leaving a thin sliver visible to the outside. As Draco neared the shower, Harry stepped back and the curve of one of his pale, perfect buttocks came into view as well as a nice sample of his toned back. Draco paused momentarily and swooned as suddenly the blood in his body very quickly travelled south. He couldn't take his eyes off that small section of skin available to his sight and he absently licked his lips. Carefully Draco moved to the side to get a better view. His new vantage exposed Harry's strong, water-streaked back to him as well as that long elegant neck of his, dappled with water and look dangerously edible. Draco stared hypnotised as Harry's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed and he felt another jolt of arousal make his trousers that little bit tighter.

Draco was, at that point breathing through his teeth like some subway pervert and he wasn't sure how much he could take of it. He couldn't look away but if he kept staring…

His threadbare control snapped as Harry raised a muscular arm to run through his water-slicked hair. _Fuck it. _

Harry let the hand fall to his neck, his head hung forward as he tried to massage the tightly wound muscles. A sigh escaped him and he tried to let all the tension in him seep down the drain with the water and soap that trailed down his back. Slowly, muscle by muscle he'd managed to relax, but his neck always was the last to unwind. As he let the heat from the water and his hands do their work he finally felt it loosening up. That is, until he heard the shower door slide open.

His entire body locked up. Every part seemed to be drawn into a horrible knot due to that one little innocent sound and the not-so-innocent hand that ghosted a feather light touch down his spine.

He felt the heat of another person as a solid presence behind him and the soft brush of lips against the curve of his ear.

"Need help with that?" those naughty lips asked in a sultry, rumbling tone that sent shockwaves all the way down to the tips of his toes. He shuddered involuntarily and swayed backwards, pressing his back into the toned chest behind him. The press of an erection along the crest of his buttocks very quickly brought him back to his senses and he lurched forward, trying to escape the welcoming presence at his back. Before he could turn or retreat two pale arms encircled his waist and pulled him flush against the man behind him and Harry heard the hiss as his erection was caught between the two. It was followed by a tortured, aroused groan that rumbled in the blonde's chest and into Harry's body.

Draco tsked before licking a path up the column of Harry's neck and making his way to an earlobe that he bit rather harder than necessary. Harry jerked against the arms around him but found himself firmly encased and not all that enthusiastic to leave.

"Naughty Harry, trying to escape your penance," Draco murmured, letting one of his hands wander up the tweak a nipple, the other sinking to massage a hip, before climbing back up over the plains of Harry's torso, pausing to tickle the snail trail that led up to his belly-button and settling back around that narrow waist, teasing the skin with a bare shiver or a caress.

To Harry's intense embarrassment, he felt his body react, arching into Draco and causing delicious friction for the man behind him, which had him panting in hot breaths across his neck and moaning in his ear, driving on Harry's own arousal.

"Ngh, Dra-…c-Oh…" he stuttered out as on of those pale, slender hands ran teasingly close to his semi-erect length.

Draco nearly came just from hearing the disjointed version of his name that Harry had moaned; he buried the impulse, instead lapping at the muscle between his neck and shoulder before biting it hard, possessively. Harry jerked against him in shock, his back arching and his head coming to rest on Draco's shoulder in a move to further accommodate the blonde's rough treatment to his neck. Another restraint in Draco snapped and he snaked his fingers around the length he'd been lightly tormenting and began to move in earnest, almost roughly, clutching at him, pumping him, teasing the slit with the occasional swipe of his thumb. He bucked rhythmically against the rounded flesh of Harry's arse and only wished that he could watch Harry's expression as he came, hard, against the tile walls.

Harry's breathing was shaky and he was shuddering against Draco even as he continued to rut against him. Gathering his strength, he roughly pushed Draco away who stumbled into the rear wall of the shower. He took a few moments to steady himself, his hands braced against the wall next to the taps. Harry turned and was surprised at the expression on Draco's face.

He'd imagined shame, maybe, or fear, but never such searing lust. Draco's stormy eyes were narrowed to catlike slits and his lips were curled in a self-satisfied, mocking grin. Almost unwittingly, his eyes travelled down to the erection that was bobbing with each panting movement of Draco's body and before he'd had time to register it, he was on his knees inches from it, watching it, mesmerised. He looked up at Draco's face and was pleased to see sudden uncertainty warring with the pleasure still etched onto his features and he would have dearly loved a camera to capture his expression the moment when he fully engulfed Draco's length greedily.

He kept his eyes on Draco's face as he gave an experimental suck, enjoying the mixed taste of skin and water on his tongue. Draco gasped and shuddered, bracing his hands against the walls. Harry grabbed a hold of the hips that threatened to snap forward and moved back, letting all but the head of Draco's length slip from his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the tip, teasing the slit like Draco's dextrous hands had teased him earlier. One hand moved to gently circle the base of Draco's penis and he let it slip the rest of the way from his mouth with a disappointed keen from Draco, which shortly turned into tortured moan as Harry ran his tongue along the underside of his shaft before returning it to his mouth and sucking again.

He let his teeth gently graze the sensitive skin in his mouth and only had a moments warning, a hitched breath before Draco's seed was flooding him. He swallowed around the length in his mouth and continued to pump it gently with his hand around the base, licking it as clean as he could.

Draco sagged boneslessly against the wall and slid to a sitting position in front of a still kneeling Harry. He dragged a hand dazedly through his hair and had to make several attempts to focus on the man in front of him. He reached out that same hand, burying it in drenched ebony locks and dragging Harry to his mouth. Harry had little time to merely blink in shock as he felt Draco's lips against his own, felt his tongue invade his mouth and felt the rumble of a moan that Draco unleashed after tasting himself on Harry's lips still.

The kiss left them both breathless and wanting and very mixed up. "_Oh, fuck me,"_ Draco muttered as he fought for breath. Harry, who was almost pressed flush to Draco's chest, heard the quietly uttered oath and a laugh escaped between each panted breath.

"Is that…an...Offer…?" he puffed. Draco looked up at him with those lazy catlike eyes and that same self-satisfied smirk. He laughed momentarily, before cuffing Harry across the back of the head.

"Like you can handle me," he retorted snidely. It took a moment to gather his strength, but he pushed his way to his feet, using Harry's shoulder as a prop. He shut off the taps and the silence moved in to envelop the two.

There was an awkward moment where neither knew what to do. Draco looked down at Harry's still kneeling form before stepping out of the shower.

Harry stayed hunched where he was, forehead pressed against the tiles in front of him and thought, _ohshitohshitohshitohshitwhatthefuckwerewethinking, _in a steady mantra. His train of thought was cut off when a towel soft, warm and fuzzy was thrown over his head. Harry pushed it back from his face and turned to Draco who was lazily rubbing himself dry.

"You said something about takeout?" He questioned with a raised brow. Harry would never tire of seeing that quirked brow – it was endlessly fascinating how he made it do that. It made Draco look so smart, so arrogant, so…in charge; as teenagers it had always annoyed him, but now…well, he was starting to see the appeal.

_/What ACTUALLY happened. LMAO. You know I had to :P/_

Carefully he cracked open the door and slipped in through the narrow gap he'd made between the door and the frame. The shower was at the other end of the narrow room and he could make out Harry's figure vaguely behind the heat fogged glass.

Harry ran a hand through his hair before he let it fall to his neck, his head hung forward as he tried to massage the tightly wound muscles. A sigh escaped him and he tried to let all the tension in him seep down the drain with the water and soap that trailed down his back. Slowly, muscle by muscle he'd managed to relax, but his neck always was the last to unwind. As he let the heat from the water and his hands do their work he finally felt it loosening up.

He tried not to take too long, rightly thinking that Draco was not the most patient of people. He turned off the showerhead and slid the shower door open. He reached blindly for his towel that was hanging on the rail below the window and came up short. He turned to grab his glasses off the sink and shoved them on before peering through the fogged up lenses.

His towel was missing…well, the linen cupboard was right next to the shower so he turned and opened the door only to be greeted by shelf after empty shelf. On the shelf at eye-height though, was one little scrap – a hand towel on closer inspection with a flower pattern. Harry looked around the room in bewilderment and dawning frustration.

"Why that little…_Slytherin!"_ he swore. Harry grabbed the hand towel, mopping off the most of the moisture from his skin before holding it in front of his crotch as he yanked open the door.

Directly across the hall and sitting on a stack of his linen, was the smug little bastard, inspecting his nails. His amused gazed flicked to Harry, taking in his state of undress and the smile widened in smug satisfaction. Draco leaned forward, propping his hands on his knees and staring mischievously up at Harry, fully appreciating the view.

"And now," Draco said. "We're even."

Harry's features were screwed up in a mixture of amusement and annoyance and in aggravation he quickly threw the hand towel into Draco's shocked face.

The door slammed a moment later and Draco peeked from underneath the damp towel. He was alone in the hall, still sitting on his mound of linen. He gave a low chuckle and guiltily brought the cloth back to his face, resting it against his lips.

"That was so worth it," he remarked. Draco stood, grabbing a towel and made his way into the bathroom. But unlike Harry, he remembered to flip the latch.


	10. Mistletoe

_**A/N: **I know I should feel really guilty for not being a bit more regular, but I've always been a bit slackery and to be honest, the honeymoon is over with this story, I'm ready to move onto something else, so my heart isn't all the way in AT THE MOMENT, but I'm sure that will change when I get bored with whatever else I'm doing. Anyway, This chapter's ok, but I WILL be working to get the next one out, which is the one that I'm looking most forward to writing, but after that, who knows how things go. Please enjoy; R & R and I will love you forever, especially if you have some creative criticism to offer. _

* * *

Blaise Zabini is what is lovingly known as a loafer. His family, being as rich and successful as they are – his mother with countless inheritances and her boys with equally impressive allowances have the luxury of doing, well, to be quite honest, very little.

So in his spare time, Blaise invests. It's what he does. Throw some money at a likely venture here and there, sit back and watch his personal fortune grow. People who know him figure that he must have some kind of strategy to his investments; since only on the very rare occasion have they failed to bare fruit.

The truth is that it has more to do with luck and a keen fashion sense. Blaise is a trend setter, so if he shows interest in a particular store, or new brand of designer threads, then others take notice. He makes his own success.

However, when all's said and done, Blaise Zabini is a loafer. He "does lunch", attends charity functions and frequents the hip and now clubs, restaurants and art galleries. Life would be almost perfect for him. Almost, but not quite.

Enter his irrepressible, indomitable and unshakeable self-appointed fag-hag Pansy Parkinson. Pansy, when not nagging Blaise or being a general cock tease, works at an interior design firm that's only newly established in the wizarding world. With the influx of muggle culture pouring in, it was only a matter of time before the nobility caught onto the brilliance that is home makeover. Throw away those imperialist designs! In with the modern, the new, the trendy! Pansy is duly suited to this role, because among her love of beautiful things is her overwhelming desire to snoop through other people's homes.

She has made it her personal crusade to make sure that Blaise eventually grows up and is trying to instil some sort of meaning into his life. It's not working, but she lives on in hope.

Theodore Nott – a dark horse in Slytherin. He defied his family and became…a florist. Nott senior was rather upset and struck him from the Will when he found out that he would not be joining him at the firm (_Nott, Haversham & Associates_, if you'll remember). It didn't particularly faze Theodore, though; his florist's shop is rather successful in its Hogsmeade location, catering to not only the townsfolk, but also the hundreds of students who make their way every now and again to Hogsmeade to purchase little gifts for one another. He's thinking of expanding the business to become a Nursery as well and is toying with the idea of franchising.

He's not particularly concerned about his family's silence. He figures that they'll eventually change their opinion when they realise just _how_ successful he's been. Especially considering that he's often thrown in what remained of his original allowance into several investments that Blaise had also taken interest in. But he's ambivalent either way.

In fact, all three are rather successful in their own right and they tend to throw any business they can to one another, when they can. It's a neat little arrangement that should have made their parents proud. But their families' are too old school to see that.

And so it was that these three particular friends were "doing lunch" when three owls, looking rather surprised to see one another all landed at the same table and offered a leg to each separate occupant, who also looked rather astounded. Each owl bore an identical card and inside was an invitation to a small gathering at the home of their most beloved Slytherin Old Boy.

Draco Malfoy. They rarely heard much from him these days since he was run ragged at that bloody law firm, so they immediately took the opportunity to reply and looked forward to the New Year's celebration that would take place in three week's time.

* * *

Harry Potter didn't always think things all the way through. This was solid fact. At present, it was Christmas Eve morning and he'd taken it upon himself to decorate Draco's living room in traditional Gryffindor style – meaning a lot of tinsel, a lot of homemade tree decorations for the tree that towered in the corner of the room, many tiny sparkling strings of lights strung all about the place and a whole pile of tartan throws to disfigure the slate grey couch. He laid a fire in the fireplace and had hung mistletoe in each doorway leading into the room and had even bought a couple of Christmas stockings to hang from the mantle. He'd arranged a number of ornaments around the room, snow-globes, reindeer, Santa figures and the like, some of which started singing when pressed or when you walked by. The mantle had a thick tallow candle in the centre, wreathed in holly and set among silvered pine cones. There was a dish of assorted nuts on the coffee table and in a brown paper bag sitting by the fire was a packet of chestnuts, ready for roasting.

He'd pulled the blinds on the one large window, making the room feel sheltered, casting a false evening in the room. The little twinkling lights and the fire alleviated what would have been a gloomy atmosphere and Harry surveyed the room with a sense of pride.

At the sound of an elephant tramping down the stairs, Harry plastered a huge smile on his face and waited for Draco to come into the lounge room and see his great achievement. There was some grumpy muttering coming from the direction of the hall and by the sounds of it, Draco was making his way to the kitchen. He could hear doors opening and closing and more muffled curses and the muscles in his face began to hurt from holding that painfully large smile. He let his expression drop and sat down among the throws and pillows tossed on the couch and settled in a bit as Draco continued to do god knows what in the other room.

Finally after several more minutes of waiting, Draco appeared bleary eyed and still in his oversized set of black silk pyjamas, his hair mussed from sleep and fingers clasped around a steaming cup of black coffee. He looked around the room slowly, confusion creasing his brow and he scratched at his head in bewilderment. He then turned around and walked back into the kitchen. A moment later, he was back, taking another good look at the room before muttering something under his breath and returning to the kitchen. Harry sat quietly, sniggering under his breath and resisting the urge to pounce Draco, who looked about ten years younger in those pyjamas and with that expression on his face.

After another ten minutes of silence, Draco dashed back to the lounge room, sans coffee mug and bleary eyes and stared in mounting horror at his poor room.

"What happened?"

At this moment, Harry stood and strode over to Draco, beaming cheerfully at him, green eyes sparkling with mirth.

"Happy Christmas, Draco," Harry greeted the blonde before leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on Draco's furrowed brow.

"I thought I was still dreaming…I thought that somehow I'd ended up at your house…" Draco trailed off as he slowly stepped around Harry and made a circuit of the room, glancing at each hokey little decoration and cringing when a reindeer started singing as he walked past.

Harry's expression slipped under Draco's reactions and he began to have the nagging sense that maybe his decorations weren't such a welcome idea.

"Don't you like it?" Harry asked timidly, resisting the urge to shuffle his feet. With hands on hips, Draco surveyed the room one last time before turning to Harry with a sigh.

"It's not that it isn't…_nice_, I guess, it's just that it doesn't really…suit me. How long did it take you to do all this?"

"Well, I started at seven this morning and it's just after nine now, so almost two hours."

Draco raised his eyebrows at that. "It's just…it's a bit _much_," he finished lamely.

Harry laughed apologetically and started pushing Draco towards the kitchen with a minor protest.

"Okay, okay, I'll take it down," Harry said. He held Draco still in the doorway and leant forward to kiss him on the cheek.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Draco asked, as Harry pulled away.

Harry pointed up with a mischievous smile and simply replied, "Mistletoe," before giving Draco another shove towards the kitchen.

"Oh, oh, well that can stay," Draco said hurriedly as he was ejected from the room. He made his way back up to his bedroom with a half-smile lingering on his lips and shaking his head at Harry's antics. It really hadn't been all that bad, it was just a little more clutter then care and it made him feel like he'd walked into someone else's living room. But he supposed that the thought was nice. Malfoy Christmases had always been rather barren affairs.

Sure, there were decorations and Christmas trees, lavish dinners and mounds of presents but there was always a constructed feel to it all; like they were props in a stage play with no warmth or intention behind them. The presents were presents for their own sake, not out of love, more out of obligation than anything else and the decorations were designed to impress outsiders with their wealth and class and not actually to invite them in. And there was absolutely no mistletoe allowed.

But Harry's idea of Christmas, his efforts in the living room made Draco want to curl up in the corner of the sofa with a hot mug of cocoa and crispy fry those chestnuts with savage delight; a sensation that did not sit well with the blond. It was such a foreign feeling and it didn't suit his house at all.

Draco shook himself of any thoughts about family and Christmas and went to take a hot shower to waken up the rest of the way. He spent about twenty minutes under the blessedly hot water, washing his hair and taking his time scrubbing his body as he went. When he stepped out, it was into a billow of steam that followed him into the hall as he practically ran the short distance though the chilly air into the warmth of his bedroom and to the promise of clothing.

Draco changed into a pair of jeans and thick woollen socks. He pulled on a slate-grey cashmere turtleneck sweater and over that he put on a dusty blue hooded jumper. He stuffed his hands in his jeans pockets and made his way back to the living room.

What he saw made his jaw drop. Gone were the gaudy, handmade ornaments and singing toys, the over abundance of lights had disappeared and all the throws and pillows were nowhere in sight. All the clashing red, green and purple coloured tinsel no longer strung the tree.

That cacophonous mess of Gryffindor decoration, quite literally, magically been transformed completely.

The tree was decorated with what looked like real snow that refused to melt in the heat of the room, icicles formed on the tips of each branch. Small soft lights twinkled subtly from the branches, like moonlight caught in ice and a delicate crystalline star topped the tree. Draped in amongst the branches, strings of dried cranberries gave contrast and colour to the snow and leaves.

Along the mantel of the fireplace, that same tallow candle stood, still cradled with silvered pine cones, but twining around the column of the candle instead of the true holly was a gold replica with ruby berries that shone warmly in the glow cast by the little fairy lights that framed the mirror above the fireplace. In place of the silly statues were crystal and glass figures of mythical beasts that glittered and gleamed from random surfaces. The fire was still crackling merrily and the chestnuts sat, waiting to be roasted still. And Harry stood among it all transfixed on one of the singing reindeer statues that he'd originally brought in. His brow was furrowed in concentration and his tongue was slightly poking out in a manner that Draco found outrageously cute.

Draco watched on it awe as the figure in Harry's hand began to morph fluidly into another glass figure, finer and more delicate than its original form. Harry's hair shifted, as if in a breeze and the air seemed to charge around him and the breath caught in Draco's throat as he realised that Harry hadn't pulled out his wand to transfigure the object. Nor was he uttering any sort of spell. The light caught in the object cradled in Harry's hand and Draco's gaze sought out its shape through the dazzling brilliance. Instead of the cartoon monstrosity of before now there stood two figures, fine and delicate and so lifelike it looked as though at any time they'd move. Two deer, a doe and fawn, stood on a round, silver base. Their markings were made with dapples of frosting and faint gold filigree glittered from within each figure. The mother had her neck craned down to touch noses with the fawn, whose face was tilted up towards her as they stood side-by-side.

Harry turned it carefully, inspecting it from a different angle before he reverentially placed it in the centre of the coffee table.

As he straightened, he caught sight of Draco standing with his mouth slightly agape paused in the doorway. He laughed nervously and ran a hand through his hair and slowly made his way over to the blonde. He grabbed the cords on Draco's hoodie and pulled him in close, with barely an inch between them.

"So…what do you think?" He asked tentatively, chewing absently on his bottom lip. Draco's eyes snapped from their fixation on the figure on the middle of his coffee table to stare into Harry's eyes. They stood in silence as Draco tried to come to terms with the state of his lounge room.

It was…It was…it was perfect. If Draco had ever bothered in decorating for himself, he'd have wanted it to look like it did now. That room had always felt the coldest and even though it was decorated with snow and crystal and little white lights, it didn't feel so cold anymore. There was warmth there, and simple pure beauty which he never would have thought Harry was capable of understanding.

"Do you like it?" Harry prompted gently as the silence continued to stretch on.

Draco nodded, without losing eye-contact. They were so close together, he could smell Harry's shampoo; he was enveloped by his scent. He could see Harry's impossibly long eyelashes and felt the gentle stir of his breathe against his cheek. They were so close that it was only a small distance to breach to do what he'd fantasized about ever since their first meeting. There was only an inch of difference in their height and it only took Draco a short craning of his neck to press his lips softly against Harry's whose breath hitched in mild surprise.

Draco raised his arms and twined them around Harry's neck as he gently moved his lips over Harry's. He felt the raven-haired man's arms slide from their clutch on the strings of his hoodie to lightly encircle his waist.

Daringly, Draco ran his tongue along the seam of Harry's lips and willingly deepened it when Harry obliged him by parting them. Draco caressed his tongue against Harry's for a moment before drawing back. From the heat in his face, he knew he was flushed and was pleased to see a healthy rouge tinging Harry's cheeks also. He grinned sheepishly at Harry's rather shocked expression.

"Wh-what was that for?" Harry rasped out, his deep tone sending a good shiver down Draco's spine as he felt it rumble under his arms.

Draco pulled away and slipped his hands in his pockets, his grin transforming into a self-satisfied smirk. He nodded and glanced upwards casually, and simply said, "Mistletoe."

Harry raised his fingers to his lips as the phantom presence of Draco's mouth against his fizzed along his skin. There was a sensation deep within his chest, like heat curling around within him and spreading to his limbs. He stood there, stunned, not having expected such a forward manoeuvrer from him.

Draco pushed passed him and strolled the room, taking care to inspect the new decorations closely. He paused when he reached the centre of the room and spun on his heel to face Harry, who was watching from where he'd left him standing earlier.

"You know…" Draco mused, finger to his lip. "It is missing something…" Draco walked over to the box of things that Harry had repacked after his first disastrous attempt at furnishing Draco's living room and began rifling through the items. After a bit of a struggle, Draco pulled out one of the tartan throes, unfolded it and draped it over the couch.

Harry smiled wildly at the sentiment and felt that warmth tingle up his spine and curl in his chest again. In this darkened room, isolated from the crisp morning air outside and away from the eyes of all he could admit to himself one thing. His feelings towards Draco certainly weren't platonic, but it wasn't even just about lust anymore – though there was still a great dose of that as well. And if he hadn't been falling for him before, that one simple act had him falling, and hard.

Draco gracefully fell onto the couch and drew the blanket round himself and stared off into the flames of the fire still flickering in the grate for a brief moment before rousing himself. He patted the cushion next to him and glared at Harry until he sat down, arm thrown casually over the back of the couch. Draco picked up his novel from the side table as well as his reading glasses and perched them on his nose. When Harry was settled in, Draco drew his legs up and placed them in Harry's lap, rearranging Harry's blanket over his sock-clad feet. He gave Harry his trademark smirk with a brow raised in challenge and secretly thrilled inside when Harry just shook his head in amusement and rested his arms over Draco's legs, absently stroking them as he stared quietly off into the fire.

Yes, that was it. Now the room was perfect.

It had Harry in it.

* * *

"Draco, darling! Oh it's been so long! Too long! What have you been doing with yourself?" Draco rolled his eyes and tried to gently pry himself free from Pansy's death grip around his neck.

"Yes, yes, good to see you, too, now let go before I hex you," he said. Pansy withdrew reluctantly and stepped inside Draco's hall, removing her coat in the warmer air of the home and brushing the light drops of moisture from her hair.

Blaise followed her inside and surprised everyone by throwing himself against Draco from behind and pulling him into a tight hug.

"Draco, you mean, mean thing! Why haven't you kept in contact?" He whined into Draco's shoulder. In response Draco elbowed him in the stomach and stepped forward to shake the reserved Theodore Nott's hand. They'd never really been friends in school, and were probably still more acquaintances than friends, but Draco had always rather admired the other for his stoicism maturity and singularity and generally, the other three were inseparable at public events, so usually all three were automatically invited to any function any one of them was attending.

The three filed into the lounge room, each laden down with bottles of alcohol in either hand and the hearty intention of drinking it that night.

Pansy squealed upon setting her eyes on the room's Christmas decorations still in place from the week before and she quickly set her bottles down on the side table as she entered, prowling the room with an eager eye.

She turned with an intense glare to Draco who followed Theodore into the room. He raised an eyebrow at Pansy's expression and waited for the outburst.

"Who'd you get to do this?" she demanded. It was hard to tell if she were angry or not, her expressions continued to war with one another; peevishness that he hadn't asked her to do it and excitement to find out the perpetrator and just general awe at how pretty it was. It was, after all, very shiny, and she had an almost magpie-like attraction to shiny things.

"Oh, I didn't get someone in to do it. Ha- er…my boss did it. As a surprise," Draco explained with a slight hesitation and a nonchalant shrug of the shoulders.

"My father?!" Theodore nearly yelled at the same time that Pansy and Blaise in unison screeched, "His Father?!"

"Ew! What? No! Oh, I didn't tell you? I quit that job." Draco said with another shrug. All three gaped at him in shock. Draco smirked at them, loving that he'd got them so unsettled so easily and made his way into the kitchen where there was a tray of finger food that he'd had prepared by a local cafe. He brought it into the kitchen and placed it on the coffee table, making sure not to knock into the deer statue still at its centre.

"When did you quit?" Pansy asked, the moment that Draco re-entered the room.

"Oh, I think it's almost three months now. Now I'm working privately for this one client…Well, technically he _is_ my boss and I handle all his legal affairs concerning his business ventures and so forth," Draco said negligently.

"So what…you're a PA now?" Blaise scoffed while Pansy frowned disapprovingly at him. Draco merely shrugged at them.

"Hey, I get paid twice what I was earning at the firm and I can wake up at nine in the morning if I feel like it. Plus, there's no uniform or dress code, so I could work in my pyjamas if the mood should ever strike me."

"Well who's your boss, then? What's he like?" Pansy urged, edging forward along the seat. "Is he single?"

"You can ask him yourself, he said he'd be round later tonight," Draco answered and sat on the end of the couch which still had the Tartan throe draped over it. He ran a hand absently over it and wondered how his boss was doing.

They'd not seen one another since Boxing Day when Harry had insisted that Draco come over to spend the day at his house. Draco had gone back to the manor for Christmas day and after such a dry, rehearsed affair, he was glad to oblige and spent the day watching sappy Christmas movies and torching marshmallows in the fire. They'd not talked about the kiss and it was nearly a very awkward day, but alcohol prevailed and they'd both woken up pressed together on the couch in the den the following morning. Since then it had been a week of tense silence between the two. Harry's absence in his life had been unsettling since Draco had been getting so used to his daily interruptions.

Theodore sat in the armchair across the way and Blaise stood propped against the wall by the fireplace.

"So what does he do?" Theodore piped up suddenly while he uncorked one of the bottles he'd brought in with him. Pansy reached over and picked out a few things from the tray and nibbled at them as she keenly followed the conversation.

"Very little, most days," Draco snorted at that, recalling the numerous occasions when Harry would just loll about in the chair opposite his desk and read or pester him to play chess. "He has a couple of good investments in the muggle stock market, so I guess he's a little like you, Blaise. He also owns a portion of some business or other in Diagon Alley, he hasn't specified which, but it's seemingly a profitable one."

"What does he need you, for then, Draco? I don't have a personal assistant…or a lawyer…well, you're my lawyer, but I'm rarely in trouble these days," Blaise interjected.

"He's setting up a school for higher magical learning in London. It's going to be a research facility. We're just waiting on planning permission from the council and we're also looking for more investors," Draco explained with emphasis on 'investors'."

"In London as in, wizarding London or _muggle _London?" Pansy asked with a note of suspicion in her voice.

"So, who'd like some champagne? This one is absolutely divine, you must try it!" Draco said, quickly going from his seat and back into the kitchen to swipe the bottle from the fridge. He grabbed four glasses on the way back and began pouring immediately upon returning to the room.

"Theodore, how are things going with you?" Draco asked as he saw Pansy take a breath to have another go at him.

"Well, thankyou, the business is going through a boom at the moment and I'm considering of opening up another shop." Theodore replied.

"So what are we doing tonight?" Blaise asked, moving from his leaning post to grab the glass that Draco had poured for him.

"I thought we'd have a few drinks here, have dinner then have a few more drinks and then go out to a club or something. What do you think?"

"Sounds like a plan!"

A resounding _crack_ in the hallway announced the arrival of Harry and the man himself appeared in the hall entrance looking shy and out of place. He was dressed in a thick woollen maroon jumper under his dragon-hide jacket and was wearing the same ripped jeans that Draco had first seen him in. On his feet were a pair of worn but still good quality sneakers and in his hand he had a bottle of fire whiskey tucked close to his side. Compared to the almost suits that Blaise and Theodore were wearing and the evening dress that Pansy was in, he _did_ look as though he'd walked into the wrong party, but still a little thrill went through Draco when he caught sight of him.

Harry smiled shyly as he sidled into the room and glanced at the new faces with growing dread. It was like the line-up of the elite from Slytherin and high society staring back at him. Moments from his school years started coming back to him in flashes and he fought to keep his expression friendly and refrain from wincing at memories of Pansy being unpleasant and Blaise just being his usual arrogant self. He didn't actually have that reaction with Theodore, not even really remembering him that well. His eyes fell to Draco and his smile grew so wide that he felt like a fool with a stupid crush.

"Everyone, this is my boss, Ha- er James P- Evans. James Evans. His name is James Evans," Draco finished lamely, Pansy arched an eyebrow at him and Blaise ignored the introduction and stalked up to Harry with a look of challenge in his eye. He held his hand out for Harry to shake and held the gesture longer than necessary.

"Blaise Zabini, how do you do," he said suavely. Draco slapped a hand over his eyes and counted to ten before pulling the dark man away from Harry who was looking more anxious than when he first walked in the door.

"I'm Pansy, and that silent brooding lump over there is Theodore, but we just call him Teddy," Pansy said, reaching over the back of the chair to extend her hand to Draco's boss. He took her hand and shook it briefly, mumbling a "pleased to meet you," and nodded at the still seated Slytherin who was looking him over with a calculating manner.

"And it's Theodore, or Theo if you must, but not Teddy," Theodore said with a sidelong look at Pansy who had the grace to look rueful.

"Right."

The room fell to an awkward silence.

"So James…you look familiar, have we met before?" Theodore asked, as he gently twirled the stem of his wine glass in his hand absently.

Harry started and blushed before his eyes crinkled in a grin and he scratched the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. "Eh heh, maybe, have you been to Godric's Hollow recently? I just moved there," he said uneasily.

"No, no, that's not it. From somewhere else perhaps?"

"Ha ha, maybe I just have one of those faces," Harry replied with a shrug.

Draco stood abruptly and bodily put himself between Harry and Theodore. "Anyway, James, what's on the menu for tonight?"

"Well-"

"Ooh!" Pansy interrupted loudly. "He's rich, he's good looking _and_ he cooks, Draco darling you must not let this one get away," she purred.

Draco shot her a death glare before turning to raise his brow questioningly at Harry. Harry, now thoroughly red in the face and completely unsettled managed to stutter out that he was going to cook a Thai chicken curry with rice and excused himself from the room, relieved as he retreated into the sanctity of Draco's kitchen.

The first thing Harry did when he'd entered the room was go straight to the pantry and he helped himself to a bottle of white wine, uncorking it and pouring it into a tumbler that had been left drying on the sink. He took a huge swallow to settle his nerves and laughed as he felt his limbs shaking in a near state of panic. He could hear the conversation float through the arch. The main conversationalists were Pansy and Blaise who were recounting to Draco about this person or that event. He could here the rich tones of Draco's voice interject every once in a while as he went about preparing the food, but the contemplative silence from the fourth person in the room was what was disturbing him most.

Of course, he didn't think that Theodore had recognised him, not really, but with Draco's earlier fumble the ex-Slytherin was clearly wary of him and he really wasn't in the mood to deal with resurfacing hatreds.

Harry paused for a moment from stirring the food in the wok and took a steadying breath and another swig of wine. Tonight was going to be long. He'd been dreading tonight ever since Draco had reminded him of his promise to attend and this was not going to be easy.

"How's it going?"

Harry yelped and turned around in surprise, shocked to find Draco leaning propped against the archway, arms folded against his chest and his trademark half-smile tugging at his lips. Harry placed a hand over his racing heart and laughed to relieve the pent up tension that was winding him so tight.

"Good, it'll be done in a minute or so. Are we eating in here or in the dining room?"

"Dining room has enough chairs," Draco responded with a nod in the direction of the room. He pushed himself off the wall and went to stand next to Harry, his folded arms brushing the front of Harry's jumper. "Relax, boy, they're not going to eat you. We're all adults here, so don't worry so much about it."

"Easy for you to say, imagine how you'd feel if I'd dragged you to an all Gryffindor party, see how you like it," Harry groused, shifting closer to Draco.

The blond snorted and reached a hand up to condescendingly pat Harry on the cheek. "Aw, poor baby. You'll be fine!" He insisted. He absently brushed some of Harry's fringe from his eyes and turned when he felt the avid stares directed his way. In the arch, Blaise and Pansy were peeking round the corner like school children, Theodore was standing somewhat behind them with an amused smirk on his face.

Pansy waved guiltily before giggling and dashing from the room with Blaise following her into the dining room. Theodore approached to stand in the doorway and studied the pair a moment; their proximity, their intimacy. His eyes fell to the stove behind them and then flicked back to Harry, his brow creasing ever so slightly in thought.

"…Smells good," he said simply before heading for the other two. Harry released a breath he didn't realise he'd been holding and he felt Draco do the same.

"Fuck, where's more wine?" Harry asked suddenly and turned to search for the bottle. Draco silently retrieved his own glass and left Harry to bring in the food to the dining room. Harry had decided; there was no way he was doing this all the way sober.


	11. Lest we Forget

* * *

"Where'd James go?" Pansy yelled above the throbbing bass in the crowded nightclub. She squeezed and twisted her way through the mass of sweating human existence to get back to the table that Draco was haunting, Blaise in tow.

"I saw him at the bar last! Some guy was trying to chat him up!" Blaise shouted back. The pair collapsed messily onto the low set couch in a heap of limbs, knocking over several drinks on the table in front of them and irritating a sulking blond in the process.

Draco was sitting with his legs crossed, drink cradled in his hand and glaring at the sea of bodies cutting it up on the dance floor as if they were personally offending him. He was annoyed. Dinner had been a little awkward, true, but things had been going pretty well all awkwardness aside until it was slowly brought to his attention that Harry was just that little bit _tipsy_ and poking fun at him in a very subtle, Slytherin approved fashion. All this would have been fine, if only he hadn't looked over and noticed Theodore's smug little expression which told him in no uncertain terms that he wasn't the only one aware of it.

Then they'd gone to the club, they'd sat and had a few drinks and after Harry's last shout, the man had made his way to the toilet and he'd not returned since.

Draco refused to admit that he was feeling abandoned in any way and remained pouting for the better part of the evening. It was only just after ten and already he was ready to go back to the townhouse, the joy of the evening having fled on the heels of his dark-haired friend.

Pansy reached drunkenly over Blaise's lap to pat Draco's knee comfortingly and collapsed over the slightly swaying man, giggling drunkenly. Blaise draped his arms over Pansy, stroking her arm as he surveyed the room with narrowed eyes.

"Look!" He pointed to the dance floor with a giggle. The other two turned to look at where he was indicating and Draco's jaw dropped.

Sandwiched between two men in almost identical skin-tight shirts and paint on jeans and dancing wildly and with abandon was Harry – _his Harry, _hair matted to his forehead with sweat, glasses missing and grinding against the man behind him as the one in front practically humped his leg. The guy behind him started tugging at his shirt and Harry helped him pull it over his head before lacing his hands behind the guy's neck, chest glistening with sweat under the strobe lights.

Theodore looked at his friend's stunned faces and glanced back curiously at the dance floor as he made his way back to their table with drinks. He stopped in his tracks and nearly dropped his handful in his rush to cover the bark of laughter that escaped from his mouth. He watched as Draco rose angrily to his feet, fists clenched at his side and turned back to James on the dance floor.

James had one hand caressing the neck of the man who was grinding into him from behind and the other running a slow trail down his own chest. His hand drifted to the waistband of his jeans and he hooked his thumb through a belt loop as he undulated to the music. His gaze was steadily focused on the irate Malfoy whose expression was flickering from anger to lust to jealousy and settling on extremely disgruntled.

It was captivating, Blaise checked his face to see if he was drooling and Pansy was hoping she wasn't going to spontaneously get a nose-bleed from the scene in front of her. From her position over Blaise's lap, she could tell that Blaise was most _definitely_ enjoying the show and her own libido was in full agreement. When she could spare a glance from the gyrating, pulsing display she could see Draco's back tensed and his shoulders drawn up in anger.

Theodore continued over to their table and put the drinks down, crossing his arms against his chest as he watched the drama unfold.

It was becoming increasingly more obvious to the four that things weren't all right with their other companion. Going off first impressions, he'd seemed the shy, introverted type and even drunk his behaviour was looking a little extreme. Worry joined the warring emotions inside Draco as he watched as the two men pressed against Harry looked more as though they were supporting him then dancing with him. Harry's eyes fluttered and his pupils appeared to roll back in his head and he sagged, almost collapsing against the man behind him. In unison, Theodore and Draco ran to Harry, Theodore grabbing Harry under the arm and pulling him away from the others in time to watch Draco draw back his fist and pound straight into the faces of the one who'd been humping Harry's legs.

Even with the music still playing the sound of the guy crying out and hitting the floor rang out through the comparatively silent dance floor, the attention of the room on their little corner of the club. Two security guards rushed up and Draco held up his hands.

"Don't worry, we're going," He hissed before turning on his heel and stalking towards the exit. Theodore sighed before dragging the half-lucid form of Draco's boss with him and Pansy and Blaise struggled off the couch and hurried to follow.

The security guards let them go and the group gratefully stepped out onto the crowded, chilly sidewalk. Blaise wrapped an arm around James' waist to help take the strain and they flung his limp arms about their necks as he fought to stay awake. Pansy raced off to the coat room to pick up their other items before joining them shortly afterwards. Draco was speaking hurriedly on the phone to the taxi company, his temper at its very limit.

When he returned to the others he shook his head. "There's going to be a bit of a wait," he announced before sitting himself on the gutter, feet stretched out into the road. The other sat down beside him, Pansy wearing Blaise cloak as the pounding bass emanated from the club behind them and the sounds of conversation and laughter washed over them.

All of a sudden Harry groaned and he raised a hand to his head even as it lolled forward. He slipped sideways and ended up with his head against a suddenly very stiff and awkward Theodore's shoulder. He dropped a hand onto the man's upper thigh to brace himself and mumbled incoherently into his neck. Theodore looked at him askance before throwing a desperate look to Draco and had to resist the urge to flinch and cry, "Get him off, get him off, get him off!"

Then Harry seemed to give up remaining upright entirely and slumped onto his lap.

"Ok, _gethimoffgethimoffgethimoff!"_ Theodore screeched, trying to slide out from underneath him. Blaise caught the raven-haired man before he could fall face-first onto the edge of the gutter as Theodore scrambled away to stand behind them a short distance and compose himself.

Blaise turned to glare at Theo and shouted, "What's wrong with you?"

"You know how I feel about…people…_touching_ me!" Theodore responded in a voice pitched higher than normal. "Besides," he continued. "He's drunk, he might vomit on me!"

"Eew," Blaise shuddered and hastily let go of Harry to let him slump against the pavement.

"Blaise!"

"What?!" He cried, looking innocently at Draco's angry face. "I'm sorry! But I'm allergic to being vomited on! Besides, he's _your_ boss! You look after him." Draco's scowl deepened as he heard Theodore's quiet agreement from behind him.

"Fine," he said curtly before standing up and moving to where Theodore had vacated, picking up Harry's slumped form before sitting down again and letting him fall into his lap.

They were waiting almost a half hour for the taxi to arrive and they had to fight off some bastards who tried to jump in before them, but in the end they managed to all climb in, the four men squished into the back that was only meant for three. Draco on the left with Theodore in the middle, Blaise on his right and Harry was draped across the three of them, his legs laid across Blaise's lap and his head in Draco's. Pansy sat in front but swivelled in her seat to observe the others, enjoying the silent line up of young eligible men. Well, sort of eligible…well, if you were a guy...not including Theodore of course, but the other three were, probably, maybe, most likely interested in only blokes.

At least she knew that Blaise and Draco were all the way gay, but James she wasn't so sure of. Then _again_ he had been dancing rather erotically on the floor before collapsing. Of course that's not to say that straight man couldn't dance that way. Pansy paused in her musings and snorted. Sure, straight guys _really_ danced that way. She sighed. It was unfair really; all the successful, handsome and intelligent men were either assholes, taken or gay.

Her gaze lingered on Blaise and her melancholy deepened. He noticed her look and gave her a warming smile that made her insides squirm and her face heat up. Totally unfair.

James was rousing. Not only was he rousing, but it also looked as if he was trying to…rouse Draco. Pansy giggled with amusement as Draco began to squirm, his face turning red as his bosses arms wrapped about his waist and he nuzzled Draco's groin. Blaise started laughing when he caught sight of it and Theodore began to turn pale, looking about ready to start panicking.

The man moaned out a warped version of Draco's name and wrapped his arms tighter around his waist, drawing him closer to his abdomen.

"James, stop it," Draco warned, pushing at his arms until the dark-haired man withdrew them and rolled onto his back, staring peaceably up into his face. Harry wiggled and twisted until he was in a more comfortable position – much to the discomfort of Theodore and he drunkenly raised an arm to caress Draco's cheek.

"I thhhiiink they…spikeeed, mydrink," he slurred. Draco grabbed his hand and held it in his own against Harry's chest and glared at him a warning to behave.

"I can see that, James, now be quiet or I'm going to get the cab driver to stop and we're going to toss you into the streets."

"Hahaa…I loveit when you get peeeeved…always have, when you screwupyour faaaace like 'at. Look like a little, white….ferret…haha!" Harry murmured with a subsiding giggle. Draco looked nervously at the other occupants of the cab and could easily see that Pansy's suspicions – and Theodore's – had immediately been set off.

"Alwaaays…when you…and then I'd…love to see you get angry…made it….worthwhile, all those detentions…"

"James, shut up," Draco warned.

"Haha…you're doing it again! Lieeeke a little…cute, Ferret."

"James."

"S'your fault! You…and too many Slytherererinnnsss, they all _HATE me_!"

"Seriously, shut up."

"But you were always…walways such an _arsehole…_"

"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" Ah, oh shit.

"Aw, Draco! Now they know my secret identity!" Harry wailed and turned to bury his face in Draco's lap, though it didn't muffle the laughter bubbling from his throat. And like there was an isolated magical ripple the sudden incongruities disappeared and Harry now lay where James had just been.

_Oh shit, hell and damn…_

Three voices in a screeching chorus rang out at once, "POTTER?!"

* * *

The rest of the cab ride home consisted of the three shouting questions at a worn out Draco as Harry phased in and out of consciousness. It took only about ten minutes from the club to Draco's house, but it felt like a century. The group clambered out hastily, Theodore pushing and shoving to escape the confines of the vehicle to safe uninhabited sidewalk as Pansy paid the cab fare. As a second thought, she whipped out her wand and _obliviated_ the cab drivers memory of the last half hour or so and followed the rest up to Draco's house.

Once inside, the dumped Harry onto the sofa, and Draco grabbed a wash bucket from the cupboard and placed it near his head just in case. The others found room to sit on the sofa, Blaise lounging on the rug by the fire and Draco standing awkwardly in the doorway.

Whatever those men had slipped into Harry's drink was playing havoc with his system and one moment he'd be lucid, the next laughing silly or complaining about being too hot and needing sex and the rest of the time fitfully sleeping.

After a few minutes of silently watching Harry fidgeting on the couch, Blaise ventured a tentative comment. "I know a detox spell…but I'm not all that good at it, especially not after a few drinks…"

He trailed off. Maybe his wasn't the best suggestion. Pansy shook her head. "Just let him sleep it off for a bit. I bet his magic will fight it off, anyway…er, maybe," she said.

Draco scoffed. "Pansy, that only ever happens in crappy romance novels and fan fiction. When has your magic ever fought off a drug or potion?"

"Well this _is_ Harry Potter, Draco darling. And it was _only _a thought."

"Well it's not very helpful. Look, just, look after him for a moment. I've got my potions kit stored in the attic. I think I might have a potion that will do, and if not, it won't take too long to make one up," Draco responded and left the room in a strop.

The three awake remaining in the room exchanged a look.

"…So…Harry Potter, eh? Didn't see that one coming," Blaise said as he stretched languidly across the floor like a satisfied cat.

"You didn't?" Theodore asked with a shocked expression. "Frankly, I thought that this might've happened earlier, but I suppose it is a bit surprising."

"What are you talking about?" Pansy yawned. Both men looked at her disbelievingly and shared a private glance. "What?!" she screeched defensively at their astounded expressions.

"You never noticed how…violent…their rivalry was?" Theodore questioned with a raised brow. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"You'd have to be blind not to see how much they hated one another at Hogwarts," she responded, crossing her arms against her chest.

Blaise winced. "Well, maybe hatred is a bit of a strong word…after all, they do say that the opposite of love is not hate, but indifference."

"What? You mean…all the stuff at school, all the name calling and quarrelling…that was really…what, just sexual frustration?"

Theodore shook his head gently in amusement. "Don't young boys who have crushes bully the girl they like? They were basically pulling pigtails the entire time."

"I remember they had an underground fan club, remember that? There were all these younger girls from all different houses who'd record their fights and take photos when they were more…compromisingly positioned," Blaise laughed in remembrance and Theodore nodded seriously.

"I recall seeing this one photo that they'd manipulated. Originally it was a fist fight that had got out of hand, but a few of the girls bewitched it so that the two in the photo began to make out instead." He shuddered at the thought. "I think that picture emotionally scarred me…"

"Oh! And there were these girls who'd write stories about them! Actually, some of them weren't all that bad."

"Only if you have no literary taste or discernment," Theodore shot back. Pansy watched on in mounting disbelief. The conversation petered off and she sat there staring at Harry's sleeping face and wondered how she'd missed all of this.

"How come I never saw any of this?" She asked, sounding almost hurt.

"Well, my sister was in the club and one summer I just _happened_ to be rifling through her stuff when I came across a folder full of it. Then I kind of showed some of the guys in Slytherin but we wouldn't risk showing it to you girls. You were scary in love with Draco and I wasn't about to go and get myself killed showing you this stuff," Blaise replied with a noncommittal shrug.

"Hmph."

After a moments silence Pansy spoke again.

"You wouldn't…by any chance still have a copy, would you?"

Blaise laughed and shook his head.

"I think I need another drink," Theodore commented before rising from his seat and making his way to the kitchen.

After they watched his retreating back, the other two turned their attention back to the sleeping Gryffindor in their midst.

"You know," Blaise remarked contemplatively. "He's really not that bad of a guy, once you get past it all."

"Certainly doesn't hurt that he's probably more handsome then ever," Pansy responded tartly.

"True, true."

"…Ever wonder why he disappeared?"

"Not really, I was just annoyed that that was the only thing that the news was talking about for months. I just pinned it down to him being an obnoxious prat," Blaise said with a shrug.

Theodore entered the room at this point and handed the others each a glass of wine.

"I'd say there was probably more to it," Theodore interjected as he took his seat.

"He's…different then I remember him. I never thought he'd be like this," Pansy commented as she took another sip.

"Pansy, dear, we don't even _know_ him. We've never known him. All we know is that he can cook, he can fly like nothing I've ever seen before and that he looks fucking hot on the dance floor once he's been drugged up to the gills," Blaise said. He sighed and watched as he swirled the wine in his glass around. "But we're going to have to get used to him, and we should probably try and get to know him."

"You make it sound like a chore! I think it's fascinating!"

"He's not a lab specimen, Pansy," Draco said from the door. In his hand he was carrying a small flask with a liquid in it the colour of dirty water.

She giggled mischievously and blushed when she remembered their earlier conversation about the fan girls.

"So how'd you two end up like this?" Blaise asked. Of course it was Blaise that asked. He was always the one who blundered carelessly into people's private lives, asking the questions that everyone wanted the answers to but who few would actually dare put forth.

Draco made his way over to the couch and knelt in front of Harry. Gently he pat Harry on the cheek to wake him up and he dragged the protesting man into a slouch. "Here, drink this," he said. Draco had to raise himself higher, one knee in between Harry's legs and used one hand at the back of his neck to tilt his head back gently while he used the other hand to pour the potion past Harry's partly open lips.

Once empty Draco pushed Harry back to lean against the couch and sat beside him. When he turned to face his friends their expressions were surprised and curious. They'd never have expected in a million years that Draco could ever be the sort of person to have a good bedside manner, and here they'd been proven wrong.

"Well?" Blaise prompted.

Draco hesitated before deciding that for once, telling the truth might just be easier then concocting an intricate lie.

"To be honest? No idea. Just one day when my car had broken down and I had to catch the bus to work, this person just came and sat next to me and it turned out to be him. Then before you know it, I'm quitting my job and he's cooking me breakfast."

"You mean-"

"Not like that! Merlin's Beard! We haven't- we _wouldn't_, er…not yet, anyway," Draco quickly amended. "He just comes here every morning and cooks me breakfast and then we work. Well, when I say we, what I really mean is that I do most of the work and he distracts me from it."

"That's not very nice, Draco," Harry muttered groggily as he blinked away the lasting affects of the drug. He groaned and cradled his head in his hands.

"Finally rejoined the land of the living, eh?" Blaise commented with a grin.

"Eheh…yeah, um, sorry about the whole, _James_ thing," Harry replied sheepishly. Blaise waved it off and Pansy smiled reassuringly at him. Theodore remained silent. Honestly it didn't bother him in the slightest.

"But that was some fancy spell-work there, Potter. It was like it was you, but it wasn't, you know?" Pansy said. "Like it'd be like going up to a person and saying, hey, you look like Harry Potter, and never realising that it actually is. I'm impressed!" What she didn't add, was that _it was very Slytherin of you_. Somehow she didn't think he'd appreciate that particular bit of high praise.

"What I don't get is how Draco knew," Theodore interjected suddenly. Harry looked for a moment like a rabbit caught in headlights before his headache made him cringe and hide his head in his hands again.

"Some people just…I don't know. They see through the glamour. Not all of them have magic either; just a select few aren't affected by it. Turns out that Draco's one of them. And once you know it's an illusion you don't even see it. So it really is like a secret identity in that respect. I mean, even when he's Clark Kent, he's only then just Superman in a pair of glasses and a work suit." Harry explained, feeling way too sober to be chatting civilly with people who'd made his younger years a living hell.

"Ok, you had me up until Clark Kent…" Blaise said with a confused frown. Harry just shook his head in amusement, immediately regretting it when his head swam and pounded angrily at him.

"'Scuse me," he said before climbing unsteadily to his feet and making his way to the hall and by the sounds of his footsteps up the stairs.

"Fuck, where's more wine?" Draco muttered suddenly and ducked into the kitchen.

"You know what we need?" Pansy said to herself. "Music." She made her way over to Draco's stereo and started pressing buttons in the hopes that some music would then result. Theodore sighed before getting up and gently pushing her out of the way. He turned it on and immediately soft music began to filter through the room. Blaise lazily pulled his wand from his pocket and aimed at the fireplace, uttering an _incendio_ charm and sighing happily as the flames began to warm the room. As Pansy walked past to reclaim her chair he grabbed her ankle, making her look down at him. He patted the rug beside him and she smiled and sank to sit by him, carefully tucking her skirt beneath her.

Draco returned shortly after carrying a bottle of wine and his glass, setting it on the table by the couch and retaking his seat. He looked at the two on the floor with a raised brow and a newborn suspicion. He glanced to Theodore who nodded almost imperceptibly and Draco almost grinned.

Harry was down a few minutes later, his face pink from the cold water, fringe damp in places and sticking to his forehead, glasses sitting slightly askew on the ends of his nose. He was feeling a little miserable, he hated getting sick and he wasn't particularly in the mood to keep partying. He sat down next to Draco on the couch and curled up into the corner, wrapping the throe around him.

"Um…I know it's a stupid time to be asking this…but did anyone perhaps manage to find my shirt?"

The attention of the room suddenly fell on Harry. They'd been talking to him for…god knows how long…shirtless. He'd been sitting on the pavement outside the club that entire half hour…shirtless. It was a wonder he wasn't sick yet. Blaise snorted then burst into all out laughter, which triggered the others, including Harry who grinned in embarrassment.

That night was just too weird.

Eventually, Harry persuaded Draco to lend him a shirt of his so that he wasn't so indecent, and the blond handed over said item of clothing reluctantly. He'd been rather enjoying the view.

They spent the time between then and midnight talking, actually talking civilly, joking and at some point they'd managed to coax Draco into uncovering a magic trivia game which kept them occupied. Harry avoided any drinks other than water, but the others continued drinking.

When the countdown was coming up, they all sojourned to the backyard with a bottle of champagne so they could view the fireworks display (though they weren't at a great angle for it) and they listened as the neighbourhood counted down the seconds til the New Year.

"3…2…1…HAPPY NEW YEAR!" the cry went up, fireworks burst overhead and all over the neighbourhood could be heard echoes of the greeting, noise makers clacking and party whistles being blown. Pansy kissed Theodore on the cheek, much to his distaste before rushing back and hugging Blaise furiously tight. Harry shook hands with Theodore and Blaise (once he got free) and even pecked Pansy on the cheek when she came up to him. Draco she also kissed on the cheek and he in turn shook Theodore's and Blaise's hand.

The other looked expectantly at the two when they were again facing each other and all of a sudden they both didn't know where to look.

"So, um, Happy New Year and all that, Draco," Harry said, hands in his pockets, his foot scuffing the pavers unsurely.

"Uh, yeah," Draco responded, equally uncertain.

"Oh just bloody kiss already!" Blaise heckled drunkenly, slinging an arm over Pansy's shoulders. She stood with her hands braced on her hips, a look of anticipation on her face.

Draco glared at them before returning his gaze to Harry who smiled that soft little smile of his and he felt his insides melt that little bit. Harry leant down the extra inch and softly pressed his lips to Draco's, his hands rising to cradle his face as the chaste kiss deepened ever so slightly, lingering that little bit longer.

"Happy new year, Draco," Harry repeated once he'd pulled away and Draco just nodded, feeling a little light headed.

"Ok, enough of the mushy crap, I hereby propose a toast," Blaise announced, theatrically raising his glass. "To Friends! Old and new!"

"To friends," the others responded, though with maybe a little less cheer. They each took a swallow and listened as all around them, like some unbidden mist, yet one single perfect moment, the strains of Auld Lang Syne began to rise around them. The night turned almost silent but for the tune that wove its way around the group more effectively then any spell. And like some incantation, the presence of those gone seemed to rise and join in chorus, their voices echoing across the winds.

Harry would never be mistaken for a great singer, but the words rose to his lips and joined the others on that night's air and beside him he heard the others join in, their voices soft and solemn.

As the last strain of the song died away and the sound seemed to return to the world by the music of the fireworks they turned their eyes away from the display.

Suddenly, Harry raised his glass again. "To absent friends; lest we forget."

"To absent friends."

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot,_

_And never brought to mind?_

_Should auld acquaintance be forgot_

_And auld lang syne._

_For auld lang syne, my dear,_

_For auld lang syne._

_We'll take a cup of kindness yet,_

_For auld lang syne._

* * *

**A/N: **_Hey guys! It's finally out! The scene I have been waiting for FOREVER! What annoys me is that it doesn't come off as all that memorable. At any rate, which bit do you reckon I'm refering to? Tell me which bit grabbed your attention most! I'd love to know!_

_This chapter was a bit unexpected. I didn't really have much of a clue where I was going or how I'd get there, I just knew that certain things I wanted to happen had to happen and so I wrote it accordingly...wow, I'm rambling. We'll blame the fact it's almost 4 am. ENJOY!_


	12. Straw hats and Snitches

_(a/n: Long time in coming, I know. I haven't forgotten about this story, I just lack the motivation to work on it. Updates will remain sporadic, but I hope you enjoy this chapter. This one was like pulling teeth, but overall I'm really satisfied with it - especially the quidditch sequence. I've never been too sure of my ability to pull of action scenes, but hopefully you approve. Cheers for reading. Please review if you liked it or if you think there are some areas that I need to improve on.)_

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CHAPTER 12

The coming of spring had put a nice standstill on progress with their work. Yes, it was still getting done, but nowhere near as fast as it had been going during the winter months.

It might have been because of the good weather (meaning Harry wanted to be outdoors rather than inside). It could have been the lack of interest by investors (though Blaise and co. had certainly given them financial support). Maybe even the fact that still no official announcements had been made to the general public was causing work to slow down. It also might have been attributed to the stalls in renovation to the newly bought, but still ancient cotton factory.

Or it might have been the fact that Harry took great delight in kissing Draco Malfoy.

There they'd be, sitting in Draco's study, going over finances, building plans, contracts, proposals resumes and/or some form of bureaucratic red tape that someone had sent them and Harry would get…fidgety. He couldn't help it. He was more the active type anyway and even though this school was important to him, his sanity – which Draco questioned daily – couldn't handle sitting still for quite so long.

So he'd lean over the table until Draco would look up and capture his mouth in a kiss that would turn into a snog that would turn into some very heated heaving petting; messing up the organised piles of paperwork that Draco had diligently gone over. Then after Draco would come back to his senses – usually when he'd run out of breath the second time, he'd eject Harry from the office with an armful of work and an order to go sit outside and behave.

It was strange, really. Again, they'd not talked much about the kiss…er kisses that happened on New Years, and though they'd shared a bed that night, they'd simply curled up together and fallen asleep. The most they'd done together had been no more than dry humping. Harry still spent the majority of nights at his cottage with Draco at the town house, but increasingly their weekends were spent together – as if spending all week together wasn't enough.

But lately, with the turn of the seasons and the Quidditch competitions fast approaching, Harry's thoughts had returned to the sport he'd missed more than any other thing from the magical world. He'd been going along to the practices of the local team on weekends and he'd even signed up after further urging from the team captain, Mick. They were getting ready for the preliminary pre-season matches and their training schedule meant that nearly all of his Saturdays were devoted to practice.

He was tireder than he'd ever been but Harry was still enjoying every minute of it. Especially after he would finish and Draco would be sitting, waiting for him in the stands, eyes narrowed and face unreadable.

What was it exactly that they had? They were neither friend, nor lover. Not boss and worker and if what they were currently wasn't quite so enjoyable and natural-feeling, Harry would have been struggling internally to try and place a name on it.

Sometimes it scared him how easily they'd fallen into whatever it was that they'd become. It was like best friends or long-time partners and while they still bickered and insulted each other like school-children some days, it didn't seem to stop them from just _being._ It was…nice, Harry could remember back to when he and Ginny had gone out and how wonderful that had been at the time and that didn't even really compare to how he felt when he spent time with the blond outside of work and obligation.

The other night, he'd tentatively taken Draco's hand and entwined their fingers together as they stood at the lookout just outside the pub, pulling the man close to his side and just enjoying the view. Draco had looked at him with amusement and squeezed his fingers affectionately even as he called him a "bloody sop", but he'd continued holding his hand.

Harry privately thought that it was awfully domesticated.

He was startled from his thoughts as a heavy hand slapped his shoulder and he looked up into the scary visage of Mick smiling.

"Ready, fly-boy?" the man grunted. Harry smiled widely in return and nodded, tightening the laces of his shoe and standing to follow the men as they left the change-room (really, it was little more than a tent). They walked onto the field that was yet again playing as a Quidditch pitch out into the cheers of the fans.

The day was warm almost hot and the air was dense, humid. The locals lined the edge of the pitch, spilling from the bleachers and onto the grass, picnic blankets spread beneath them and baskets of food sat beside them in preparation for the match.

Today, it was Godric's Hollow against Devon's Seven. They had a plan this game; it mostly involved heading off the other team's seeker and preventing them from catching the snitch for as long as possible, while _simultaneously_ making it appear as though Harry wasn't a very good seeker. The plan was for him to catch it almost accidentally. Harry was a little dubious about it all but was willing to humour Mick and the rest of the men if it meant that he could play.

From what they'd told him, they had done poorly in the last season and had a lot of headway to make, so the idea was to score as many points as possible. However, if it looked as though the other team would outdo them, then the plan was going to change to the "let Harry catch the bloody snitch as soon as possible" plan.

The wind picked up as they neared the middle of the field, whipping the grass about like an ocean of green. Harry could feel a trickle of sweat make its way down his spine as he waited for the whistle, broom at the ready. He could feel the pre-game anxiety settle in his stomach, making him fidget with his hold on the broom as the tension built.

A coin was tossed and sides were picked; each team's captain shook hands and with that the whistle was blown and the game had started. Each player launched into the sky in a sudden shot of speed and the cheering of the crowd was swallowed by the deafness of concentration.

Harry rose higher than his team mates and immediately began scanning for the Snitch while simultaneously keeping track of the scoreboard and the other team's seeker. It was out of sight at the moment, and Harry took the opportunity to speed around the boundaries in a fast circuit and felt the thrill as the wind pushed against his face and tugged at his robes.

He spared a glance to the crowd and had to fight a smirk when he spotted Draco seated on the top row of the bleachers with a glass of white wine and picnic blanket spread over the seat. He had on a straw hat that he'd stolen from Harry's house to protect his fair complexion and was wearing a blue, light cotton shirt with the first two buttons undone and a pair of tan trousers.

As he turned away, a flash of gold light caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Harry slowly looked towards it and his eyes caught sight of the glittering gold orb. His entire body seemed to flinch, instinctually needing to chase the snitch and it took a force of will to maintain his position.

The other seeker had no such qualms; from the opposite end of the field, he gave chase, shooting across the field like his broom was on fire toward the tiny glittering speck that flitted and danced through the air. Harry moved towards the other seeker, dodging a bludger that came flying past his head.

In a move that had the away team gasping in disappointment, Harry shot between the snitch and the seeker's outstretched arm, pulling upward to avoid the collision at the last moment.

The other seeker, Grady, if Harry recalled correctly had turned white and his eyes were wide in surprise, but quickly narrowed in a glare. Harry grinned apologetically and rubbed his neck in a nervous gesture.

"Watch where'ya going aright ther?" Grady warned before turning his gaze back to the field, scouting for the snitch. Sounds from the game began to filter back in and Harry kept an ear out for the score.

It was a slow match. The teams were almost equal, with Harry's team trailing by ten points. It didn't help that they'd started playing with the sun in their eyes, but the game was dragging.

On numerous occasions, Harry had to intercept the other seeker who was at a level above the team that he played for. It was frustrating in a way and not nearly as much fun as it was to verse Malfoy, but there was just enough challenge that it required his full attention on the game.

The sun was rising in the sky and the competition raged on beneath it. The beaters on both sides were doing a good job in injuring their opponents, their team members and themselves. Harry had sustained a nasty bruise on his shoulder from a bat that had slipped from his own beater's grip but was otherwise unhurt, though feeling slightly foolish.

He'd made a few clumsy feints to misdirect Grady, which of course he hadn't fallen for. Harry had also allowed the snitch to escape his grasp more times than he'd care to count and at one point when he was dodging a bludger, Harry made a show of nearly falling off his broom. The play-acting was now a wound on his pride. He didn't know how much more self-inflicted humiliation he could take.

When the sun was firmly overhead, the ref blew the whistle and announced a break much to the relief of both team's players. Badly disguised curses and mutterings trailed behind the players as they all returned to the ground, breathing heavily and beaded with sweat.

The skin on Harry's face was tight and he could feel the heat radiate from it, aware that he was probably turning a very unattractive shade of red. At least he had the kind of complexion that tanned, unlike Ron who would have peeled and freckled mercilessly. Harry winced as he climbed off his broom and took the time to stretch before meandering over to Draco, who was watching him, his head tilted to the side.

Harry smiled as he approached even as Draco's eyes narrowed in a feline manner. He looked adorable in that stupid straw hat and borrowed shirt. The blond had to tilt his head as Harry approached to maintain eye contact and it gave him a much appreciated view of that pale column of neck that just made Harry want to caress it. Somehow he maintained an almost appropriate distance, though an inch closer may have been pushing what would have been deemed socially acceptable.

He grinned in appreciation as Draco wordlessly passed him a water bottle from his lunch kit and he gratefully took long swallows of the cool liquid, feeling better almost immediately. Harry unceremoniously collapsed onto the bleachers next to Draco and groaned softly, his muscles protesting slightly.

"Tell me, Harry" Draco began in a snippy tone that he was all too familiar with. "Am I to understand that _this _is considered a Quidditch match and not, say, a bloody clown act?"

"Hey!" Harry affectionately bumped shoulders with him. "I'll have you know that it takes a lot of work to look so dreadful at being seeker."

"Really? I wouldn't have thought it would be much of a stretch for you," Draco replied, eyes open innocently wide. Harry raised his brows and put a hand to his chest in mock affront.

"How dare you, sir! By Jove, I do say!" Harry cried, then in a fit of childishness snatched the hat from Draco's head.

"Oi, give that back!"

"How badly do you want it back?" Harry teased, holding it out of arm's reach of Draco's flailing hands. Draco glared crossly at him, folding his arms against his chest and it reminded Harry of a rumpled kitten. Smiling happily he returned the hat to his head, swooping in for a soft kiss while he could.

"Harry! What do you think you're doing?! We're in public!" Draco hissed, shellshocked.

"So? Welcome to the 21st century, Dray, even if they have a problem with it, I don't think they're going to say much about it when I win them the match," Harry said. Draco continued to pout at him and he quickly swooped in for another chaste kiss before dodging past other spectators as he clambered down the bleachers with a cheerful laugh.

He made his way back over to his team who were standing around outside their tent, some drinking deeply from bottles of water, others nursing injuries and it was clear by the look on some of their faces that they'd witnessed the innocent affection that Harry had quite outwardly displayed towards Draco.

A heavy clap on his shoulder nearly had him jumping on the spot and he turned to see the owner of that hand - Mick - looking at him stonily.

"Ok lads, these guys are good and if we don't improve our game shortly then we're not going to get much further than this. I don't care what kind of lead we get; ten, twenty points, that's fine. But we have to give Harry a hand out there, cos mate," Mick addressed this directly to Harry. "It breaks my heart to see such a fine seeker acting the fool. So let's get out there and prove that we can do this!"

The men cheered, seemingly roused by Mick's attempt at a speech and Harry was glad that Mick was treating him no different from before. The other men who had looked as though they might cause problems held their tongues, their gazes still inquiring, but not hateful. Not that it would have really upset Harry to be spurned for his relationship choices. He'd been ostracised for more - and less - before.

The break lasted for a half hour before recommencing with the opposing team now playing into the sun. It was the change they needed, too, as the Chaser's began to make headway and their beater's aim improved greatly - not to say that they didn't occasionally hit their own team still.

First one goal was scored, then another and Harry in the meantime played tag with the other seeker, following him doggedly, almost bumping into him with the staff of his broom. Grady threw aggravated glares over his shoulder whenever he'd feel Harry's imminent presence and a wicked little corner of Harry's soul was enjoying the annoyance he was providing. He wondered if that was how Draco would feel whenever they played or fought together.

Suddenly awoken from his musing by the cheering of the crowd he almost crowed in triumph as his team scored another goal. It was enough. They were now leading by thirty points. It wasn't much of a lead, but Harry wasn't going to risk one more feint. Almost entirely abandoning the other seeker, he flew higher and let his gaze focus on nothing and everything at the same time. Absently, lazily he let his eyes wander around the field hoping for a glittering hint of the snitch. There! Down, close to the pitch, maybe six foot from the ground it sat hovering.

In a flash he was on the move, absently aware at the sudden outburst of the crowd. He couldn't see but he could sense Grady on his heels, urging his much newer broom to keep up with Harry's old Firebolt. Harry laid closer to his broom, stretching himself out along its length as he fought against the wind bustling into his face, pulling his hair back and tearing at his cloak. He ignored it all, the sounds of the crowd, the whistle of the bludgers aimed in his direction, the presence of the other players. His focus entirely on that small fluttering dot in the distance, bent on that single point of interest.

Abruptly it shifted direction and Harry moved to match it, dodging the other player's by instinct alone. He was gaining on the snitch, drawing closer and closer he could practically see the definition between each little detail and moving part.

The snitch was climbing higher and higher into the atmosphere, carrying him away from the crowds and the other players. It soared above the drama below and the world fell away with it. There was just this one moment in time. Solitary, silent and so simple with no cares or concerns, no past, no uncertain future, just now. This moment. Just Harry, a snitch and a goal. Nothing mattered but this moment and as Harry's finger's closed around the buzzing golden ball it all fell away. It was like exaltation, like coming home, an epiphany and absolution all at once.

This was what he'd missed most of anything from the magical world; this single moment of euphoria where nothing else mattered.

Then it all came rushing back. Grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat, Harry stopped, let his momentum carry him a moment forward before carelessly plummeting back to the ground, snitch tight in his fist. The ground rushed up to meet him as did the excited screams of the crowd. At the last moment he pulled up, racing his broom around the field, arm raised proudly for the audience to see.

They had won.

***

The smile refused to leave his face, and his cheeks ached from the strain. As soon as he'd landed he'd found himself hoisted into the air by his team mates as they cheered and celebrated - and in Mick's case, wept. Harry barely remembered shaking hands with the other team, couldn't even recall the walk to the pub.

His next recollection was sitting, still in his Quidditch robes with a pint of larger in front of him and a rowdy team around him half-pissed already and not looking as though they'd stop till well into the next morning. His eyes searched the pub for Draco, becoming frantic when he couldn't immediately find him. Then he spotted a glint of silver outside on the lookout through the partly open door and nothing in the world could have kept him still.

Harry tried asking the other's to move from the booth to let him out before giving up and clambering over the table, knocking over a crisp packet in his wake. He ignored the frail protests for him to stay and resolutely made his way outside to the blond he knew was out there.

Draco stood leaning against the fence that bordered the lookout gazing up into the night sky, his expression unreadable, posture relaxed. Harry stalked up to him and pressed himself firmly against his back, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and buried his face in Draco's neck, breathing in deeply the scent of his hair and skin. Draco tensed momentarily before sagging into his hold, his hand coming to intertwine with Harry's and he leaned back into him slightly, turning his face enough to the side that he could just see Harry's profile.

They remained silent for a long moment, content to simply hold one another.

"You did good out there," Draco murmured softly. Harry snorted gently in amusement and nuzzled at Draco's pale neck.

"Mmm, high praise coming from the magnanimous Draco Malfoy," Harry mumbled, pressing a light kiss below the blond's ear.

Draco chuckled and pushed at Harry until he freed him enough that he could turn and grasp him by his shirt front. "Potter, it never ceases to amaze me whenever you use poly-syllabic words and yet you remain completely incompetent when it comes to writing a full sentence."

Harry shrugged good-naturedly. "It's all part of the charm," he responded dismissively. Draco pulled a sardonic face but merely shook his head, clearly fighting a grin that eventually conquered his expression.

"Want another drink?" Harry asked.

"Not really."

"Want to go back to my place?"

"Hmm, maybe..."

"Want to have a shower with me?" Draco blinked in surprise then pretended to contemplate the offer.

"Hmm...I suppose. There's nothing much on the telly, anyway," he finally responded with a lopsided smile. Harry gaped at him, then pushed him playfully.

"You cheeky sod!" He grabbed Draco's arm and began tugging him down the path that led away from the pub, his step steady and unrushed. "Honestly, I don't know why I put up with you sometimes."

"It's because I'm so sexy."

"And don't forget modest!"

"Yes, but mostly because I'm sexy."

Harry's laughter bounced down the silent street joyously and his pace quickened as they approached the driveway to his cottage. Draco kept pace, moonlight dancing in his eyes and mirth curling his lips in a delicious smile that Harry had never seen on the Draco he knew as a teenager.

He almost stopped mid-stride in wonder. There was nothing here that he could see of the boy that he'd hated. Well, ok, he was still arrogant and prideful and he did tend towards snobbery but that was more a product of breeding and only a character flaw when in large doses. The Draco who existed today was tempered with patience and maybe a little wisdom and a lot more maturity than he should have expected the younger Malfoy to ever possess.

Harry was nearly frantic as he pushed through the unlocked door, immediately shedding his cloak and tossing his boots as soon as they were free. Draco rolled his eyes at him and left him downstairs struggling with his guard pieces, making his way up the stairs with what Harry thought was a needless twist of his hips. His eyes followed him and those grey cat-like eyes stared back for a brief moment; challenging and inviting him.

The last of the guard pads he let fall absently to the floor and he leapt up the stairs two at a time, racing to the bathroom door. He could hear the shower head running already causing steam to billow into the hallway.

He rounded the door just as Draco finished peeling off his shirt; he gave Harry a flirtatious look over his shoulder, then acting as though Harry wasn't there began working on his trousers. They slipped down his legs to form a pool of fabric around his bare feet, his boxers following shortly thereafter. And there he stood in all his unadorned glory, wearing nothing but a lascivious smile that tugged on the strings of Harry's libido.

Draco tilted his head wordlessly to the already running shower in silent question then stepped in, leaving Harry alone to tackle the rest of his clothes. He didn't even try to taunt Draco with a striptease, certain that he'd only end up embarrassing himself, but he took the time to fold his clothing as he removed it, attempting to look nonchalant, aware of the heady gaze from behind the gap in the shower door.

He didn't trip over the ledge like he feared he would, despite his badly disguised anticipation. Draco moved to the back of the shower to allow him room, his hair already slicked back and curling wetly against his neck. Steam billowed around them both and the water beat unrelentingly at Harry's back.

All of a sudden, Harry became conscious of his own nudity as Draco's eyes made a lazy path along his frame; his expression interested, appraising. Harry reached out and caught Draco about the neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss that was returned eagerly. There was a sense of exploration as Harry allowed Draco to manipulate him, turning his head, tilting it, using his hands to draw his face closer, twining his tongue around Harry's even as his hands roamed freely over his body.

Harry moved pliantly to Draco's unspoken demands, turning as the blond tugged at his shoulders and letting his weight press against him as pale arms encircled his waist, pulling him against the narrow chest. He felt Draco's lips press into the juncture between his shoulder and neck and moaned when Draco's teeth clamped down gently on the muscle as his tongue lapped at the water-soaked skin.

A hand reached past him to grab a hold of a bottle of shampoo, the click as it was uncapped muffled by the noise of water showering against them. The feel of Draco's dextrous fingers massaging through his hair nearly undid him, his legs almost gave way beneath him. Another contented groan escaped his lips and his hand drifted to grasp a pale hip; wanting, needing some connection to the man behind him. Draco continued to manipulate him, rinsing his hair of the shampoo then repeating the process with the conditioner. Once done, his hands withdrew from Harry and he had to rouse himself after becoming so relaxed under Draco's gentle ministrations.

He turned then and dived towards the blond, possessively claiming his mouth, gripping his arms tightly between his hands. He wasn't sure how exactly he managed it, but he traded places with Draco, reached passed him for the shower gel and fervently began to clean his body. Unlike himself, Draco was a more active participant, running soapy hands across every inch of Harry he could reach even as Harry's made similar paths over Draco's frame.

He drew close, burying his face in Draco's neck and enjoyed the smell of his soap on Draco's skin. The nature of their affection began to morph into something more carnal Harry found himself grinding against Draco, their erections pressed between the two of them. Panting breaths, groans and whimpers echoed in the small cubicle, muted by the sounds of running water but no less needy and urgent.

Harry could feel himself near his climax and he afforded the effort to open his eyes and gaze down at blond pressed so firmly against him. His eyes were shut, his skin red from the heat of the shower and from their activities, blond hair clung wetly to his forehead and his lips were red and bruised and inviting.

Harry pulled back, earning a whimper from Draco then a surprised hitch of breath as he sank to his knees, bringing Draco's erection past his lips as he savoured the taste of his manhood for the first time.

He'd thought that he somehow be repulsed by the taste and feel of another man but the scent of his arousal and the silky smoothness of the skin as it shifted over the hard muscle, by contrast, was something he was sure he'd never really tire of. By the needy moans that issued from Draco and how his hands scrabbled at his shoulders for a steady purchase, Draco also approved.

Harry sucked and lapped at the member, explored it with his tongue and mapping in his memory the spots that made Draco twitch and throb. At one point he took too much of him into his mouth an nearly gagged, but the Blond either ignored it or didn't notice. He swallowed around the obstruction and groaned as Draco suddenly tugged at his hair a little painfully. The vibration from the sound seemed to make him more desperate and Harry had to hold his hips in place or risk being hurt unwittingly. Draco writhed within his grasp, mewling like a kitten; needy, swallowed by lust.

It was the most erotic thing Harry had ever witnessed. He had little warning when Draco came; just a warped rendition of his name tearing from his throat then Harry's mouth was flooded with his hot seed.

He almost choked in surprise, Draco's seed spilling from his mouth and trailing down his chin, salty and so very strange on his tongue. Then his arms were full of a jelly-legged ex-Slytherin who had collapsed against him, arms thrown about his neck and body pressed flush against his chest. Harry sank back onto his shins and Draco followed, his buttocks pillowed against Harry's thighs and Harry's erection brushing the cleft tauntingly.

All the while water pelted down on them, washing away the signs of Draco's release. His arms clutched tighter around Harry's neck and he murmured only barely coherently against his hair. "I want you inside me." It was barely more than a whisper and Harry - already so close to the brink - lost it then and there, bucking against Draco once, twice and he was gone; spilling his own release.

He felt Draco chuckle against him and tiredly he joined in on his amusement.

"Mmm..." he groaned. "Some other time then." Draco shakily agreed and made himself more comfortable in Harry's lap, tugging on his hair until he craned his neck up to meet his gaze. The Draco stole his breath with his lips, the kiss passionate yet lazy.

The water was beginning to turn cold and with a brief gesture from Harry, the taps turned themselves off. The chill seeped in not soon after and eventually the two manage to climb to their weary feet, wrap themselves in their towels and make their way to Harry's bedroom.

Harry immediately went to his chest of drawers and pulled out his trusty flannel pyjama bottoms for himself and a new, slightly smaller pair for Draco, tossing them at his head. Draco glared minutely before pulling them on and tossing himself on the bed, shirtless with his hair still wet.

He grabbed on of Harry's pillows and dragged it to himself, hugging it against his chest. Harry chuckled to himself as he watched, simultaneously pulling on his own pair pjs. "Want a shirt to sleep in?"

Draco mumbled something in response; Harry took it as a negative, because it seemed that Draco was already drifting off and probably wouldn't appreciate being woken simply for that. Carefully so as not to disturb the sleeping dragon, Harry lifted the sheets back and tucked Draco's feet beneath the dooner before pulling on a plain white t-shirt and climbing in next to him.

The room was relatively warm still from the even temperature they'd been having, but there was enough of a chill in the air that sleeping with wet hair probably wouldn't be a sound option. Draco's hair, as fine as it was, was already partially dry, but Harry's thick mop of hair would remain wet for hours if he did nothing about it.

It wasn't even a spell what he did next; it was just something that he'd learnt to do by instinct and it had proven itself useful on a number of occasions. He focused on his hands and though he couldn't feel them burning, he knew that they were radiating a kind of heat. He ran both hands through his hair a couple of times, each pass drying the strands of his hair gently til only parts of it were still damp. Harry then carefully ran a hand through Draco's hair, gently caressing his scalp and feeling the downey soft hair dry quickly. Draco unconsciously leant into the touch and further wrapped his arm around the pillow trapped within his arm.

He seemed so innocent in his sleep; so free of the cares of the world and it made him look younger. More like he should have in his seventh year, had life been more carefree back then. Harry ran a thumb along his cheekbone and kissed him softly on the forehead before dousing the lights with a thought.

Harry burrowed further into his blankets enjoying the sensation of having someone there, sharing body warmth and space and intimacy.

It was the best night's sleep he can ever remember having.

* * *

(a/n: if you love me, let me know. Please review! It lets me know you care :P)


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